Chapter 9
What the hell was I doing?
Walking right back into captivity, that’s what. I followed behind it, like my life depended on it.
My foot started to ache more and more as the adrenaline wore off.
Within a few minutes I could hardly place any weight on it, and Grayson was getting further and further ahead.
When had I hurt it? Another minute on a steep slope and the pain was unbearable.
I sagged to the ground, giving up. The gods should just take me already, to spare me the agony of living.
I pulled away the sock from my ankle to see it swollen almost twice the size as normal.
I was about to scream at the heavens to put me out of my misery when I saw Grayson watching me.
He was a few metres ahead, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. He still looked furious.
I didn’t think he’d notice that I wasn’t following him anymore, he’d been too far ahead.
Neither had I expected that he would care enough to stop.
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
I brought my knees up and pressed my head to them. Why was I in this hell? I just wanted to go home. Digger’s slimy hands still pushed and pulled at me; his body was still a suffocating weight on my back. How did I still have tears left after all the crying I had done lately?
The heavens must have seen my brokenness and wailed with me, because the rain started pouring down on me. Or it just wanted to add insult to injury. I was already so cold.
“Get up.”
Grayson stood in front of me. I hadn’t noticed his approach.
“Get up,” he repeated.
This time, I obeyed immediately, my body reacting to his dominating tone, which would usually have my teeth grinding together.
It was a struggle to stand with the heavy bag on my back and my hurt foot, but I managed.
Grayson took the bag off me as well as the backpack he had on.
He tied the backpack to the hiking bag and pulled the hiking bag onto his shoulders.
He stepped closer to me, and I was tempted to run again—or at least wished I could.
He grabbed hold of my waist with one hand and placed his other arm at the back of my legs and lifted me off my feet.
My heart was pounding as he walked with me in his arms. I didn’t dare look at him.
If Grayson was bothered by the weight of the hiking bag and me, he didn’t let on. He kept a steady, fast pace. His breathing was even and rhythmic. Unlike mine.
After another agonising half hour, it was completely dark. The cold raindrops stung my skin as they fell on me, but that wasn’t what bothered me. The air changed, like static electricity slithering against my skin, making my hair stand up. I felt an overwhelming urge to hide.
Just when the worry that Grayson would attempt to walk through the night overwhelmed me, we came across a small clearing. He placed me down onto the stump of a fallen tree at the edge of the clearing. He dropped the hiking bag next to me and rolled his shoulders, moving his neck from side to side.
So, it did bother him. Grayson opened the bag, and rummaged through it, taking out the tarp and tent as well as a flint stick.
The sounds around us were getting more intense.
The only visible sign that Grayson was also bothered by it, was his hands stopping for a second, each time we heard something close by.
But that was the only acknowledgement of the things in our surroundings we dared.
We needed to get the fire started or get out of sight.
Grayson seemed to feel the same urgency as he walked through the trees at the edge of the clearing, picking up wood.
When the flames finally danced in the breeze, relief washed through me, eliciting a sigh from my lips.
Grayson shook out the tarp and tied it to the trees, over me and the fire.
He took out a steel pot and my water bottle from the bag, filling the pot with water and placed it in the fire.
I scooted closer, trying to warm my numb hands.
It was so cold; my teeth were rattling. Without Grayson’s warm body that somewhat sheltered me, the cool breeze was slicing right through me.
But the cold in my limbs, mercifully, kept my mind numb.
Grayson continued to set up camp. He pitched the small emergency tent, working fast and precise. It was clearly only meant to house one person. When he was done, he placed my sleeping bag and one of his own inside the tent. My heart faltered at that.
Gods, not this again.
But Grayson had said he wasn’t like that. But I had also been na?ve enough to blindly trust Digger. My eyes clamped shut. Digger was supposed to be my saviour. Instead, he tried to take advantage of me. He had asked me if anyone knew where I was. He never planned on getting me out of the forest.
I was angry at myself for stopping Grayson from killing him. Digger should rot in hell. I hoped that he was still lying in the dirt, and that whatever lurked in this forest would finish him off.
The sudden rustling next to me made me jump. It was Grayson. He was taking out some of my clothes and a washcloth from the bag. His hands were still bloody. My captor placed the pot of steaming water by my feet and dropped the washcloth in it.
He spoke to me for the first time since this afternoon.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes. Get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to get some more wood.
” He walked off into the trees, leaving me stunned.
Was he willingly walking into the woods to give me privacy?
There was plenty of firewood at the edges of the clearing.
I was grateful. The thought of stripping out of my clothes with a man present disgusted me.
I looked down at myself for the first time.
Mud caked most of my body. With a quick glance to make sure he was gone, I stood and peeled my wet clothes off.
I grabbed the washcloth and started at my face, working my way down.
By the time I was done, the water in the pot was almost black.
The dry, clean clothes weren’t very warm but felt heavenly, nonetheless.
I threw the dirty water out of the pot and poured in some clean water before placing it back in the fire.
Scooting over on the stump, not willing to stand on my foot, I opened Grayson’s backpack.
There wasn’t much in his pack. Only two sets of clothes crumpled in there, a water bottle and flint.
Seems like he didn’t need much to survive out here.
I took out some clothes and placed them on the stump, where he had laid mine.
He was just as dirty as I was. And bloody too.
Why the fuck am I giving a damn?
Cold. I was so cold. I huddled closer to the fire, trying to warm my face. My nose and lips were numb. When I looked up, Grayson was standing at the treeline watching me. He held a pile of wood in his arms, soaking wet. His black t-shirt was plastered to his skin.
“What?” I snapped. Him looking at me still unnerved me, and my nerves had taken all it could.
He walked over and dropped two logs into the fire. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
I looked away. No, my name was the only thing I had left. “I’m going to sleep,” I said instead, lifting off the stump, trying not to put pressure on my aching ankle.
“Not yet.” He lightly pushed me down again.
I glared at him. I was so done having men order me around, having them think they could do with me and my body as they pleased.
But Grayson dropped to his knees in front of me and took out the first aid kit.
He must have packed the hiking bag himself, knowing the precise pocket to open.
He carefully took my boot and sock off and started inspecting my foot.
His fingers were cold. His touch was firm but careful. “It’s not broken. Just badly sprained.”
My foot was swollen beyond recognition with purple splotches all over. Grayson rubbed an ointment on it, before wrapping it tightly in a bandage. When he was done, he looked me over. I squirmed under his gaze, wishing he would just let me be.
“Does anything else hurt?” His voice was soft.
Everything was hurting. But most of all my heart. I had always been kind and respectful to everyone and everything, and I had the impression that the universe would reciprocate in kind. But it hadn’t.
Grayson was still waiting for an answer. So, I shook my head. He sighed and pulled his fingers through his wet hair. When he looked back at me, his jaw was clenching and unclenching.
“Did he manage…” He let his breath out in a huff, instead of finishing his question.
“No,” I said quickly and looked away. Gods, if Grayson had come five seconds later…
I couldn’t breathe. I stood, not sure where I was headed. But Grayson stood with me. He placed his arm around my torso and lifted me, carrying me to the tent.
“I’ll get you something to eat,” he said as he placed me in front of the tiny tent.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat something. Your body is in shock.”
Just the thought of arguing with him drained my already dead body even more. I got into the tent. It looked even smaller from the inside. My throat closed up. I tried to shift our sleeping bags as far away from each other as possible.
Grayson was back and handed me an apple. I took it listlessly without argument. “You should use the water before it’s too hot.”
He didn’t say anything as he walked away, but I could see him getting undressed by the shadow the fire casted on the tent. I looked away. The image of him unclasping his belt made my stomach roll. I took a bite from the apple in hopes that it would settle.
I had squeezed myself into the side of the tent, but quickly realised it was of no use, when he finally ducked into it. Grayson was huge. He struggled to manoeuvre into his sleeping bag in the tiny space. His apparent aversion to touching me calmed my nerves slightly.