11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Micah
T wo scenarios are playing out in my mind.
Either Jade is lying, and this is a trap. Some really fucked-up plan to access my food and get rid of me. Thomas’s anger toward me and James’s little crush on London are the motivating factors for their clear betrayal. And the trap was well executed because I walked right into it.
Or…
London is in real danger, Nigel is still alive, and Naomi is really alone at the lake camp, half-dead and abandoned like she seems to be. I’d almost prefer the first alternative. It would give me an excuse to slaughter everyone on this island, feed this beast within me, and finally acknowledge the rage simmering deep inside. Also, it would be easier for me to decide what to do right now. I’m already treading a fine line with London, but Naomi alone at the lake camp is way too enticing, and blondes push me into making terrible decisions.
Plus, she’s half-dead, and leaving her here would seal her fate.
“Micah, is it really you, or am I dreaming?” She blinks a few times. Her pupils are dilated, like she can see me but can’t focus on me .
I tilt my head down as I crouch in the dark entrance. The whites of her eyes are shining in the ray of moonlight seeping through the roof, but they are bloodshot, which concerns me.
“Yeah, it’s really me.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” she asks, keeping her distance in the far corner of the shelter. It’s beyond weird seeing a girl who’s thrown herself at me her entire life shrinking away from me. To see her as a shell of who she once was, her eyes filled with genuine fear.
I crawl into the shelter and kneel a few inches away from her. The heat of her fever is radiating off her.
“That depends,” I admit. “Are you here alone?”
She nods carefully as I try to get a better view of her. She looks rough, covered in mud from head to toe, her hair in dreadlocks. She’s in a much worse state than Jade and the others. Skinnier, if that’s even possible. She’s wrapped herself in a single blanket, and she’s shivering despite the fact that she’s clearly burning up.
I can’t help it; I reach out and run my hands down her frail shoulders. As I expected, the skin on her neck is on fire. “Fucking hell, Naomi. What happened to you? Where’s Ezra?”
She shouldn’t be here, especially not alone, but she’s in no condition for questioning, given that she’s shaking. I pull out some water from my pack and place it to her lips. I only have a small amount, but I let her take her fill. I’ll get more tomorrow.
She lies down, curling into herself. “I left him,” she whimpers, but she’s barely coherent. I will hold off further questioning until she’s more lucid. Plus, I’m not sure if she would even tell me the truth.
She drinks the water and lays her head down, seemingly falling asleep immediately. It’s almost like my presence makes her feel safe enough to finally sleep, like she’s confident I will take care of her.
Which I will…
She looks so peaceful, her face in a serene state.
These girls give me their blind trust, and I take it greedily. Just like London thrives on praise, I yearn for their obsession with me, as if it validates my existence.
Constant reassurance.
I wait a few minutes to see if her condition improves. She coughs, and her face twists into a grimace, her peaceful sleep now induced with nightmares.
I watch her for a moment, not really grasping that Naomi is here, alone and nearly dead. I have to make a hard decision, knowing London is bound back at the cabin and likely a target.
Naomi’s a twist in my plans I wasn’t expecting. If I leave her tonight, she’ll die. But I can’t bring her in this condition in the dead of night. I’ll have to wait until the morning.
I think for a moment.
When I left London, she was well-fed and healthy. She should be able to last at least one more night. Tomorrow, I will go back with Naomi, and we can figure things out from there.
My stomach clenches, and for the first time on this island, I’m second-guessing my decision. This girl is half-dead. Maybe I should let nature take its course and let her perish.
I’d be doing her a favor.
That’s now the third time today I’ve seriously considered killing someone. In fact, I’ve had murderous thoughts about everyone I’ve come into contact with since leaving London.
It’s not normal; it can’t be. However, these thoughts seem to circle back in my mind, like perhaps they have been there all along and I’ve always been this way. Like Nigel and I are more alike than I care to admit.
As if on cue, Naomi lets out a moan. I’m not sure if this is some devious plan Naomi concocted with Ezra to lure me away. I don’t hate Naomi, but I don’t fucking trust her. She’s a phenomenal actress when she needs to be. However, she isn’t faking a fever.
Her body twists and turns in her sleep. The experiences she endured leading to her current condition were undeniably real. Despite my desire to believe I’m the focal point of everyone’s existence, I’m sure she’s been through the wringer, just as we’ve all changed since being here.
“What are you up to, Naomi?” I whisper, my nerves dancing dangerously in my stomach. “Where have you been, pretty girl?”
She shivers in her sleep, teeth chattering, as I reach into my pack, grab my blanket, and crawl in beside her.
Choosing Naomi over London is a bad fucking idea. But what the fuck am I supposed to do?
This is Naomi. And I’m not actually choosing her.
I can save both of them.
I give her space and am careful not to touch her as I pull my blanket over the two of us. Even in this weather, her fever will keep her warm, but the chill in the air will only get cooler as the night goes on. Eventually, she will need my body heat.
The sips of water I gave her should help ease her pain. Even one sip of water can mean the difference between life and death, and I’ve seen enough death and destruction on this island to be able to tell Naomi is at a tipping point.
As I drift off to sleep, I keep my brain focused on London waiting for me, lying in my favorite position.
One more night, baby. I’ll come back to you.
One night… I tell myself over and over, as if it somehow makes it better or changes the fact that, no matter what I do, it won’t be the same when I get there.
Naomi’s condition worsened overnight to the point where I couldn’t get her to regain consciousness. The pulse in her neck is barely detectable under my thumb as I pick her up. She’s too incoherent to make the trek back to the cabin. After a long, rough night of taking care of her, I’m really fucking tired. It will take hours, but I hadn’t planned to stay out here even one night; I don’t have sufficient supplies. If I don’t take her now, she will die.
I pick her up, but she doesn’t wake as I walk in the direction of the morning sun. “Come on, Naomi,” I mutter. “Time to go see London.”
I carry her in my arms like a bag of bones, and she doesn’t move, keeping her head flopped down and her blonde hair falling toward the ground. I’m not upset about leaving this place behind and going home.
After an hour of meandering through the woods, she finally groans in my arms. Her eyes flutter open, and she peers up at me. “Where are you taking me?” She coughs, and her breath is labored.
“Shh. Don’t talk. You’re going to need your energy.”
Sweat pours down her face as her fever breaks, and she’s at least more alert now, even though she gazes at me inquisitively, which is annoying.
It seems like her fever has broken, at least for now. “Where is London?” I push down my annoyance; Naomi’s always more tolerable when she isn’t speaking.
“Don’t make me regret saving your life by talking, Naomi. You will not be the one asking questions.”
That shuts her up. But the corner of her mouth tilts upward as she presses herself against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and resting her head on my chest.
Yeah, keep smiling, sweetheart.
Fucking hell.
She’s asleep again within minutes, her body burning up once more.
It’s a painfully slow walk, just as it was when I carried London all those months ago. I seriously dread seeing London’s reaction to me bringing Naomi in like this, or her reaction to Naomi at all.
I haven’t been in a relationship before, but I’m afraid of her reaction to me… period.
I’m hoping London can understand why I’m bringing Naomi back and, perhaps, can see the humanity left in me after what I did to her. That she can realize I’m doing this to prove I’m worthy of her. Because even though London hates Naomi, she’s too pure to leave someone dying like that.
She isn’t me…
A couple of grueling hours go by, and Naomi’s barely conscious during any of it. Sweat drips off my forehead as we finally approach the stream near the cabin.
Naomi’s like a heat locker, which I’d normally like, but the sun is getting stronger, and sweating too much is a risk out here. I place Naomi down and refill my water bottle with the crystal-clear winter runoff. I pour some over my head to cool off. It’s always a risk to drink unfiltered water like this, but in these situations, it’s always better to drink the water and risk the sickness than dying of dehydration.
Like muscle memory, my eyes immediately scan the area. Other than the constant sound of snow dripping off the trees, the forest is still. My nerves fire up when I notice footprints leading toward the woods, and my heart sinks. One set of footprints, not two. Whoever these belong to is alone.
They are fresh and tiny, and they come from the direction of the cabin.
“Fucking hell, London,” I mutter as I follow the trail with my eyes and see that those tiny footprints lead into the forest beyond.
South.
Smart girl.
She sensed what direction to go, even though I was very careful not to tell her. She also figured out how to get out of my bind, which was fucking impossible. Something isn’t right… She wouldn’t have left. Even if she got out, she wouldn’t have fucking left.
This is an ambush.
Naomi is awake now, peering up at me. I don’t give her a chance to move before I grab her and shove my hand over her mouth. I could have my bone weapon on her neck in an instant.
She squirms beneath me. “Micah, what is it?
I press harder. “Shut the fuck up, Naomi.” I need to listen. These tracks are fresh, and whoever it is could be close .
Her heart is beating out of her chest as she lies limp in my arms and I turn in every direction.
Listening. Probably looking paranoid as fuck.
After a few minutes, I determine that no one is here… And if they are, they are doing a really good job staying out of sight. I drop Naomi, and she crumbles to the ground.
“Micah, please,” she whimpers, curling into a ball. “I need your help.”
I crack my neck, unleashing the strain of carrying her all day. I keep my voice composed. “Where’s your boyfriend, Naomi? Is Ezra here?”
She blinks at me from the ground. “He isn’t my boyfriend. At least, I doubt he wants me anymore. And I don’t know where here is, Micah. All I see are trees.”
I squat so I’m at eye level with her and tilt my head. She doesn’t even flinch as she meets my stare, and I try to make out if she’s telling me the truth. Her eyes are still hazed, likely from extreme hunger.
“You’re fucking lying.”
She has to be. There is no way she’d leave her only lifeline willingly. Unless… I guess she managed to find another.
I conceal my deep regret as a new wave of panic settles in. Again, I’ve walked right into this and led them straight here. Or maybe they were already here, waiting, and took London. Either way, the past two days have been full of shitty decisions on my part.
Naomi closes her eyes as her head starts to sway. “I’m not lying. I think I’m going to be—”
She doesn’t finish her sentence before she hurls vomit on my feet, then folds her body on the ground.
She sits in the mud, waiting for me to pick her up.
I don’t. I’m actually rather disgusted.
Instead, I stare at the footprints and try to figure out what they mean as Naomi cries and moans at my feet.
I shift my gaze down to her. “When was the last time you ate, Naomi?”
“I can’t remember,” she says as she gags one more time before looking up at me with tears in her eyes and snot on her face. “It’s been a few days, at least.” That would explain the vomiting and her inability to keep any liquids in .
“You had food. A third of it, to be exact. Is it gone?”
She bites her lip and doesn’t respond; she just lays her head down—not answering but answering all the same.
I grind my teeth and shake my head. “Get your ass up, Naomi. We need to move.”
She whips her head up. “Micah, what the fuck? I can barely move.”
I start in the direction of the cabin and call over my shoulder, “Then stay here, Naomi. It’s up to you. If this is some sort of trap, it won’t be good for you.”
The best-case scenario is that she stays in a puddle of her own puke, then goes back to Ezra, who’s waiting somewhere, too chicken shit to show himself, which will confirm she was lying. The worst-case scenario is playing out how I think it is.
She pulls herself off the ground and musters enough strength to follow me. I suppress a twinge of guilt, knowing how sick and weak she is. But if London is watching, I don’t want her to see Naomi in my arms.
We carry forward, and I slow my pace so Naomi can stick close to me, although I track her movements. She can barely walk, and when I turn to check on her, she’s dripping in sweat. Naomi needs to understand the seriousness of the situation, and if she had any part in it, she will pay. And until I’m certain she isn’t lying to me, I’m not coddling her, although admittedly, I can’t carry her any longer. My body is sore, and my knees are screaming at me now.
She huffs, and I hear her footsteps crunch on the ground behind me. I pull out my bone weapon sticking out of my pack. Keeping it firm in my hand, I signal for her to stop just before the cabin comes into sight. She knows this signal; she trapped animals with me for weeks when we first crash-landed.
“Micah, I… Please, I can’t do this anymore.”
“Shut up, Naomi,” I snap at her, drawing my eyes to the trail London left. If Nigel is here, Naomi has already announced our presence with her incessant talking.
I peer around, and my heart sinks. One set of tracks… It’s like I want there to be more… Somehow, if she had been taken, it would have been easier to swallow. There are no other tracks, no sign of Ezra or Nigel. I can only conclude they haven’t been here.
Naomi lets out a gasp as she catches up to me. “Is this where you and London have been all winter?”
My eyes are laser-focused on the door, which was left partially open. “Yes.”
She clearly doesn’t realize that London isn’t here. And I don’t want to say anything until I’m absolutely sure.
“Do Jade and Thomas know where you two have been? Is she in there?”
Finally, she thinks to ask about London.
I face her, my anger starting to boil over the edge. “I don’t owe anybody anything, Naomi, and I thought I told you not to ask questions.” I edge the door open slightly and peer inside, keeping one hand on her and the other gripped firmly on my bone weapon. Blood rushes to my head when I see that the spot where I left London is empty, with dried blood splattered in a line across the floor and on the bed. The stench of urine and sweat is heavy in the air.
My heart stops beating.
She’s gone.
The cabin is messy. It looks like she left in a hurry, and I can’t deduce what actually happened or how she got out of her restraints. I resist the urge to check on the food—I don’t want Naomi to know anything more than she already does.
I turn to face Naomi, trying to get a read on her, but her eyes are glazed and it looks like she might keel over. She’s shaking beside me, and I arch a brow. From the terror in her eyes, her fear of me is authentic right now.
“Where the fuck is she, Naomi?”
She stands, shaking, wrapping her arms around herself. “Micah, I don’t know where she is. You have to believe me. Please.”
My nostrils flare as I grab Naomi by the waist and gently toss her on the bed. She whimpers as her body hits the foam mattress. I crawl on top of her, placing both arms by her head, and she stares back at me, her eyes as fired up as mine as I put my hands on her. “You need to listen to me real carefully, Naomi. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you hurt London or know where she is, if I find out you are lying to me, it won’t end well for you. She is my life now. Nothing and nobody else matters the way she does, not even you. So tell me where the fuck she is.”
She bites her lip in clear defiance.
“Fucking tell me what’s going on,” I scream, slamming my fists right next to her head. “Why were you alone?”
She curls up beneath me, cringing at my sudden outburst of anger as if just realizing how serious this is for me. “I told you. I left him,” she cries out. “I left when he was meeting Nigel. I didn’t even tell him. I just fled.”
I shift my body slightly so I’m not pressing down on her. “I highly fucking doubt that, Naomi. Why would you just leave him? It doesn’t add up.”
She closes her eyes before they glaze over. She’s warm again, her fever cutting in and out. She needs to eat before she passes out for good.
I run my hand over her burning forehead and give her some water out of my pack. Then I pull a piece of hair from her eyes so I can really inspect her. If she’s lying, I’ll be able to tell. My anger quickly dissipates as I meet her soft brown eyes and see the girl I was friends with my whole life. For a few seconds, she is not the enemy as I viewed her over the past few months, the person who had a hand in my twin’s death.
She’s just Naomi, and I’m losing her, too.
“Why haven’t you eaten, Naomi?” I soften my voice. My hot temper doesn’t work in getting what I want from Naomi… It never has.
She swallows hard and looks at the door as if she wants to flee. “We split the food with Nigel. Ezra and I had to share, and Nigel took most of it. I don’t know where Nigel is. We weren’t staying together, and Ezra wouldn’t let me near him.”
I tilt my head. “And why is that?”
“Because Nigel is sick in the head, Micah. He killed Maison, and Ezra cannot simply ignore that.”
I scoff and suppress a twinge in my stomach as I run my hand through my hair. “Ezra chose his side. Tell me where you were staying. ”
She blinks at me, then bursts into tears, her body radiating heat as she shakes her head. “No, you’re going to hurt him. I won’t let you hurt him again, Micah. But I promise you, they don’t know about this place. They have no idea where you are.”
I clench my jaw, not sure how to respond. She’s quiet now, whimpering as she turns away from me. Streaks of mud line her face, the dirt from her body all over the bed.
“Fuck, Naomi,” I mutter, checking myself, grasping onto whatever sliver of humanity I have left in me. “What am I going to do with you?”
I sigh, trying to compose myself, grappling with the complicated feelings I have for Naomi right now. I walk to the stove, turn it on, and boil some water. I need to at least clean her up and let her rest.
I watch her as I clean up the mess London left behind and bite back a swell of emotions as I pick up the sweats London was wearing when I left her.
I toss them into the corner and shift my attention back to Naomi, whose chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm. It reminds me of the way London sleeps.
The wrong girl is in my bed.
Fuck, London. Why did you leave, baby?
The outside world inevitably seeped into my distorted version of paradise. An outcome I can only blame on my regrettable choices. It’s like a punch to the gut thinking that London may never lie with me in that spot again and how it could very well be Naomi with whom I spend my final days.
I already miss the hell out of London.
I walk over and delicately place one hand on Naomi’s torso, the warmth of her skin teasing my fingertips. Slowly, I glide my hands down her stomach, carefully tugging at the waistband of her sweats, guiding them down her legs. She doesn’t even flinch as I grab her shirt and pull it off, leaving her completely nude.
My dick betrays me as I stare at her tits and watch as her nipples harden. I refuse to feel guilty about seeing her naked and enjoying it. It’s not like I haven’t seen her before, because I have—many times. But this time, it’s different because under no circumstances will I act on it. I’m sexually attracted to her—that was never the problem with Naomi, per se. I just don’t overly like her personality. I do my best to ignore her and shift my attention to London’s clothes, anywhere but Naomi’s body, picking out a new outfit for Naomi as she lies on the bed, her eyes barely open and her body still burning up.
“What are you going to do with me now?” she breathes out, her eyes closed, looking completely defeated.
I lean to her earlobe, and her body tenses beneath me. “You smell like shit,” I tell her. “I’m giving you a bath.”
Even in her semi-comatose state, a small smirk forms on her lips, and I ignore it as I drop a T-shirt into the hot water and soak her skin with it, starting with her arms.
“Whatever you say, Micah,” she mutters, but she’s clearly enjoying this.
I work my way up to her neck, then down to her legs, ignoring the obvious parts. She can wash those herself once she’s better.
Her eyes remain shut as she enjoys the warmth. I do my best to scrub every inch of dirt and grime off her legs and torso and help her clean her hair. I do everything not to touch her sexually.
Then I turn her around and clean her backside. I’ve gotten pretty efficient at this. It was my thing with London, and London ate it right up, too. The way Naomi leans into it makes me wonder how Ezra is with her. Judging by her current reaction to me, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was shit in bed. I’ve never understood Naomi’s attraction to him to begin with. He’s inferior to me on every level.
Once done, I step back and lay a blanket over her. She lifts her knees, exposing herself to me, and my dick immediately betrays me. She knows it. Believe it or not, I’ve only fucked this girl a handful of times, but given how horny I always am, this is like torture.
Fuck. Why do I have to be so easily distracted by pussy?
I help her put on an oversized T-shirt, and before I help her get fully dressed, she lets out a deep breath and mumbles, “I hate you, Micah. I hate you for leaving me for her. I hate you for the years you’ve treated me like shit. ”
With a grimace, she launches a kick in my direction, narrowly missing as I dodge out of the way and catch her foot in my hands, restraining her.
“Fuck you, Micah,” she spits, her voice full of venom and delirious with fever. She’s bawling her eyes out, and it kills me. I really hate making girls cry.
I grab hold of the arch of her foot to calm her down and stop her from kicking me again. It works. She immediately melts into my touch as I dig my fingers into her foot. “I owe you an apology, Naomi. I should have at least given you an explanation. Just let me take care of you right now.”
Let me make something right.
This seems to appease her. She closes her eyes and falls back asleep while I rub her feet to make sure she’s relaxed. When I’m confident she’s out, I reach over and grab the dirty bucket of water.
She opens her eyes briefly when I drop her feet.
“Stay here. I’ll be back,” I tell her.
“I’m not going anywhere; I can barely move. Where are you going, Micah?”
“Fishing.” I let the door shutter behind me.
I need space to think right now. I can’t just abandon Naomi again, and I certainly can’t fuck her, even though she will eventually try.
I resist the urge to follow London’s tracks right now to claim her and bring her back tonight.
Is she expecting me to follow? Her absence is a pretty clear answer. She knew how I’d respond, that her leaving was the one thing I truly feared. She’s done with me, and I can’t blame her, even if I’m not quite done with her. As soon as Naomi gets better, I’ll drop her off with the others and take London back—whether she wants me to or not.