Chapter 8 - Ransom

I raced after the woman who'd settled the torture of my body with one touch. My shoes slammed against the floor in a sharp drum beat that matched my pounding heart.

"Kiema! Wait!"

I almost shot past the door she'd escaped through. The sounds of violent retching reached my ears, pulled me to an abrupt halt.

She was hunched over the toilet. Her hair had fallen from her messy topknot. Now it hung around her head, a dark curtain shielding her face.

I winced in sympathy as her rib cage expanded and contracted heavily. Heavy splattering followed the guttural groans.

Let it out, sweetheart.

Stepping around her bowed form, I pulled open drawers. One after the other until they all stood open like the gaping mouths of dazzled spectators. On the wall, a rack held a huge collection of matching towels. Sitting on the top of the mound, I found the smallest washrag known to mankind.

Shaking my head, I turned on the faucet, and shoved the rag under the cold water. Barely wringing it out, I set it on the side of the sink.

I leaned down, one hand reaching out to scrape her hair up off her neck.

"NO!" She wrenched away before I touched her. Her shuddering body slammed against the far wall. "You can't touch me."

Never had I felt so helpless in my life. And considering I'd been a throwaway child because of my illness, I felt like royal fucking shit right now.

I frantically glanced around the small bathroom. With nothing better to do, I grabbed one of the towels from the rack.

I cringed as Kiema shrank back from my touch once more. "I'm not going to touch you. Just hold still." I couldn't help the bite in my voice. This woman who'd done what no one had been able to do was suffering agony and I could do nothing to help her.

I was actively causing her more fear and anxiety. I shook my head. I had to push those thoughts away or I wouldn't be any help to her. And as much as she might not like it, I was the only one around.

As I watched, her body seemed to shrink in on itself. Like a terrified animal trying to make itself imperceptible to a predator. My heart wrenched in my chest at the sight.

Clenching my teeth, I grabbed the corners of the towel. Laying it longwise across her body, I pulled it up, catching her hair under its length.

As soon as the honey tones of her skin peeked into view, I laid the cold wet washrag down on her neck. Careful to keep my skin away from hers.

"Is that better?" I asked, my voice a strangled whisper.

Her body wasn't writhing in pain anymore, but I didn't put much stock in that single fact.

Without warning, her back arched like a cat whose tail had been caught under a rocker. A scream that would haunt my nightmares cascaded through the room, spilling out into the hall where it echoed into the gigantic house.

Face still covered by black, sweaty hair and a dark blue towel, I heard what sounded like a water balloon drop into the vomit-filled toilet with a thick bloop.

Between one breath and the next, Kiema's body went limp and listed to the side. Her chin slammed into the edge of the bowl loudly enough I winced. She crashed into the wall at an awkward angle, passed out cold.

"Fuck!"