Chapter 29 Home
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Istayed in the hospital for two more days.
I had a decent-sized burn on the back of my left leg, and another on the underside of three of my fingers on my left hand.
But my little finger and thumb had been spared.
Burns dotted my body, but most only left a red mark, which had already started to fade.
I’d been lucky; it could’ve been worse. Much worse.
Like the Millers and the Torontos.
Karson had broken the unsurprising and awful news that they were presumed dead.
But they hadn’t found bodies, so it wasn’t officially declared yet.
The intensity of the fire, largely due to the dry conditions and strong winds, left little to find.
The official cause of the blaze was listed as a lightning strike.
It’d started somewhere behind our cabins, and the wind had whipped it into a frenzy in minutes.
As luck—if you could call it that—would have it, the wind swung back and the subsequent rains put most of it out, but around five hundred hectares were lost in total.
Luke’s comment at the ball, “Over my dead body,” reverberated through my head like struck cymbals.
There was no evidence to suggest foul play. Still . . .
Karson had also found somewhere for me to stay. The owner had offered free accommodation for as long as I liked. When I asked who the owner was, he said they wanted to remain anonymous. But he said I’d love the house and its location.
I had a stream of visitors; practically everyone I’d ever spoken to called in at some stage. Bunches of flowers adorned the room.
Jodie and Georgie had brought me lots of new clothes.
I’d lost everything. The local bank had allowed a withdrawal of cash, and I sent them with a strict list of what I needed.
They’d done well, obviously considering my tastes, only sneaking in a few short skirts and a couple sexy tops.
Now I had more clothes than the measly collection I had before the fire.
I was sitting on the bed, waiting for Karson to collect me. I double-checked my ring was in the pocket of the black Versace handbag Jodie had given me, and insisted I keep, despite my protests.
“I’ve had it for two years and never used it. I want you to have it. Besides, it looks way better with your brown hair than my blond.”
A blatant lie. I was no fashion queen, but I was fairly certain blonds could wear black as well as brunettes. I’d almost cried—not because of the cost of the gift, but at her thoughtfulness. The feeling of being cared for overwhelmed me. She’d hugged me tight, and I’d lost the battle.
The nurse, Angela, a pretty, petite girl, opened the door and announced she needed to take my vitals for the last time before I left.
She took my temperature, checked my pulse and oxygen levels.
Then she grabbed my left arm and wrapped a cuff around it, pressed a button on the machine, and it began to tighten.
I sat in silence as she studied the screen.
“Perfect.” She smiled and placed the blood pressure cuff back on its hook.
Karson glided in, looking dashing even in casual attire, and the room brightened.
Angela looked up and froze. Her brow flickered, and the color drained from her cheeks. Her mouth dropped open as if she was about to say something. She simply stared at him, as if something about him frightened her.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
She turned to me and smiled feebly. “All good. You can go whenever you like. I’ll get the wheelchair and—”
“No wheelchair,” I interrupted. “No way.”
Karson’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll carry her if need be, nurse.”
The vision of him running me through the forest rushed back. It seemed so real, but I hadn’t had a chance to ask him about it. His visits had been far too fleeting, and other people were always in the room.
“I can walk perfectly fine.”
“I believe it’s hospital policy, is it not, Angela?”
She nodded and smiled tightly, snatching up my chart and scribbling something on it.
“They can arrest me then. It’s not happening.”
He said with a sly smirk, “If handcuffs are your forte, I’m sure they can be arranged.”
Laughter bubbled from me. I climbed off the bed and went to grab my bag, but Karson had it in his hands before I took a single step. “You can at least let me carry your things.”
The nurse looked back and forth between us, a scowl on her face. “Take care, Amy,” she said, and scurried from the room.
We drove toward my new home. One side of the road was green with life, vibrant and shimmering.
In complete contrast, the other side was black.
Tree limbs stuck out into the charred terrain like a mesh of decayed varicose veins.
Smoke whispered up from fallen trunks, dim as poltergeists at twilight.
There were no signs of life. No birds, no green, just death and ash.
I wondered if Wolf was alright. He’d be fast, and instinct would’ve made him flee, or perhaps he’d sheltered in a cave somewhere. Still, I worried.
I glanced across at Karson. He was driving at speeds which would usually scare me, but I didn’t feel unsafe. I should just mention him carrying me to safety casually.
My therapist’s hushed voice found a place in my head.
“Delusional disorder brought on by trauma, but it may not be permanent.”
Sometimes I felt like my sanity fell through the cracked pieces in my head.
“The fire . . . do you think it was an accident?”
“If it wasn’t, I can assure you we will get to the bottom of it,” he answered, keeping his eyes on the road.
I looked back out the window at the blur of black forest and saw something gray, something struggling to get up.
My heart leaped into my throat. “Stop the car,” I shrieked. “Stop!”
Karson slammed on the brakes. My body jolted against the seat belt as we skidded to a stop.
I jumped out and ran, darting over the charred embankment.
A haze of ash shot up all around my legs, and cinders filled my mouth, my nose, my lungs.
The skin on my leg tugged, pulling and tearing at the wound.
I slipped and landed on my butt, then clambered back up and half ran, half slid down the steep incline to the flat below, a whirl of soot trailing behind me like a hoard of ghosts.
“Amelia, stop!” Karson shouted. I ran on, and he was beside me in a few steps. He grabbed my arm, jerking me to a halt.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he snapped.
His eyes followed to where mine were fixed.
About thirty feet in, lay a badly burned doe.
She was flat on her side. The hair on her legs was all but gone.
In its place sat blackened, singed skin.
A gooey mixture of red charred flesh and yellow puss wept from the underside of her body and pooled onto the black earth.
Her tongue was drained of color, and it hung limply from her mouth like death had already claimed her.
Her breaths were fast and shallow. But it was the look in her eyes that hit my heart like a grenade.
Suffering drowned her large brown eyes, and dust-ridden tears streaked her face.
I walked toward her. The awful smell of charred meat and rot slammed up nose. The agony she must have been through in the last few days was horrendous.
“We have to help her,” I whispered.
Karson shook his head. “Amelia, we cannot help—it’s too late.”
“Please, we have to try.” Tears stung my eyes.
His brow furrowed as he took in the poor creature. But then his eyes glazed over like blinds pulled down for the night. They became expressionless, vacant, unreadable.
A distinctly unpleasant edge found a corner in my mind.
“Turn away.” His tone was cold and mildly hostile.
“Karson—”
“Amelia, I said turn away.” His words were so sharp I flinched and took a step back.
The doe let out a pale moan of gut-wrenching torment. A single tear fell like a silent scream from her eye. I knew he was right. She was suffering and way beyond help. Karson stalked toward her, his movements fluid and graceful, there was no emotion on his face.
I turned away. A sharp crack, like a dry branch breaking, jolted my body as he snapped her neck.
I fought to stay strong, but the noise, that awful sound—I felt myself beginning to crumble.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, I repeated, grief and panic rising in my chest. I wouldn’t break, not in front of him.
Visions of Summer holding my hand, peering up at me with big brown eyes, and Obi’s big grin as he turned back on his bicycle, landed like a hammer to my heart.
I broke. Tears cascaded down my face as I moved away from the deer, away from the awful smell, away from Karson.
“Amelia,” he said, his voice tender again. He was close behind and I didn’t even hear him follow.
Stopping, I wiped at my eyes roughly with the back of my arm and sniffed. Irritated with myself and dismayed by my weakness, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I looked at the sky to distract myself and jammed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. But nothing worked.
“Amelia, are you alright?” He reached out a hand like he was going to touch me, then took it away again.
I nodded, sniffed, and wiped at my eyes again. I made the mistake of glancing up.
He looked simultaneously awkward and concerned. His brow was furrowed, as if he wasn’t used to anyone showing emotion around him and he didn’t know what to do.
I gave him little choice because I launched at him, wrapped my arms around his back, and leaned my cheek against his chest, weeping and shuddering.
His hand cradled against the side of my head. The other wrapped around my back. We pressed against each other, merging like flooding water.
“It’s alright,” he said softly. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not alright,” I sobbed out, fighting to get myself together. “None of this is alright.”