A voice coaxes me from the webs and knotted roots tangling my mind. I blink, the lights too bright, too painful.

     My nausea returns, my head feels like it's splitting in two. And I can't remembering why I'm sprawled in "my bed" once more.

    "Ace?" I whisper, blinking away the dancing spots.

    "Ace went home."

     The spots part revealing a disheveled Axel leaning against the wall. His face... it looks bad with blood marks and bruises.

     "W-what? No. He, he....ahh." I wince my jaw throbbing and poking and my brain isn't much help as I rack it. 

     Ace was here, wasn't he? We were playing hide and seek? No that doesn't sound right. No. We were reading, something. Yes, that sounds logical. I know we were. He mentioned a book before...before what? What does Axel mean Ace went home? 

     "No you're lying. Ace was here. We were —"

     "He's home."

      I swallow, the action burns me.

      "Since when?"

       "A while."

      "What? W-what do you mean?"

     He signs as he brushed his untamed hair. 

     "What happened to you?" I dare to ask, hoping he answers at least this question.

       He raises his eyebrow at me and darts the question altogether only to answer the previous one. "Ace's had to return to his obligations."

     Did I do something bad? He's so blunt and straightforward with me. I mean what did I expect, sweetness and love and affection? Obviously not. But maybe some kindness and less harshness.

      "Do you remember what happened Skylar?" he asks and my thoughts scatter around refusing to cooperate.

      I rack my brain for anything but it comes out groggy. The more I try the more a migraine starts to pierce through it all.

    Bookshelf. Vinyl disk. Chair. Vents. Screams. Lots of screams. And... and blood.

     I squeeze my eyes shut.

     "It's okay. It's okay." He moves away from the wall and sits by the foot of the bed

     "All that matters is that you're safe."

      "Did I do something?"

      He looks away.

     "What? Oh God." He can't even look at me. What have I done?

     I force the memorize to reveal themselves until a migraine erupts and I can't help but hyperventilate and the bright lights aren't much help either.

      "I hurt you didn't I?" I bring my hands out of the blankets to find them trembling. "I would never. I'm not—"

     I don't finish. I would never what? Hurt him? He won't even look at me! What awful thing did I do? Attack him? Hurt him?

      "You didn't do anything. It was me."

       I peer into his eyes, shocked. But he still won't look at me.

      "I—"

     He sticks his hands into his jeans pocket and hands me a golden spherical compact mirror.

     I tentatively take it and see my hands, they're raw with blisters. I then swallow before opening the lid to reveal my face.

     I thought his face was bad but mine, mines a mess. My hair is tangled, my lips are chapped and a purple bruise runs over the stitches on my left cheek down to my jaws under my chin. But my eyes are bloodshot, red and angry. And for a moment I wonder if I popped a blood vessel or if I've been crying in my sleep. Or both.

      "How?" I trace my fingers over and over in the compact mirror, trying to soothe my thoughts and the building anxieties.

     "Someone broke into the house and when I saw you in my study," he stops and closes his eyes, "I thought it was you."

    His study. His study! Bookshelf of CDs. I crawled into the vents! That was him? He pulled me out? Why was I even in the air vents? That doesn't seem like something I would do? Why was I up there?

    "Don't you have security?" 

     "Not as much as I'd hoped but now they'll be extra precautions."

    Axel gets up too leave before turning to the mirror in my hand, "it's yours. It used to be my grandmas'."

     "I can't. I don't deserve it."

     He goes to the door and I shout.

     "Just stop. I don't want it. Okay? Can you just look at me? Axel!"

     He opens the door and walks out.

     I scream.

     Nothing feels right. I scream not caring if I'm taken as mad. I scream for him to listen to me. I scream until my throat's raw and my jaw burns.

      I scream until the stitches pop and I bleed out.

-

     I come to in and out of focus. Someone comes in and injects me with something and I pass out into nothingness until my monsters come out and I wake myself screaming.

     It feels like hours, weeks, months until a knock arrives. I don't say anything and I don't look up.

      A tray is placed in front of me. But I don't have much of an appetite.

     My bed dips and I feel hollow. No one tells me anything and my brain is as useless as a log. Or wall. Or whatever it is. It's useless.

    I stop my thoughts as a hand gently wipes my check with a soft wet washcloth.

    It stings, and I flinch away.

    "You should take some of those." A finger is pointed into my peripheral vision. Straight at the pills set in a tiny plastic cup. "It'll help ease some of the pain before I can stitch you up."

     I shake my head. I don't want any more pills or drugs. I want to feel.

     "At least eat, please."

      The hand begins again, more lighter than before. And then the humming starts. To some imaginary music without the lyrics.

     I flutter my eyelids up, and into Axels chocolate ones. I never noticed how thick and full his eyelashes are or the specks of gray in his eyes.

     His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he wipes the dried blood off. And opens a small box full of medical supplies and I can't help but wonder if he's done this before multiple times.

     He pulls out alcohol wipes by the smell of it, needle, thread, and some other medical tools that I not know the terminology for.

    I grab his jaw so he's facing me and our eyes meet.

     "Won't you look at me. Do you hate me?"

      "I don't hate you." He grabs the alcohol wipes and taps them on my skin. From my left check to my jaw and under my chin. "It's me."

    "Why'd you leave me?"

     His jaw sets.

    "You sure you're not gonna eat."

     I peer down at my tray. At the glass of water, smashed potatoes, chocolate gelatin, and apple sauce.

     "Only if you answer my questions."

     "I didn't want to see you. I almost broke your jaw. Your—" he stops, sighs. His breathe on my forehead.

     I push the tray away and grab his tool box, pulling a huge bandaid, alcohol wipes, and ointment.

     "What are you doing, Skylar?"

     I bring my hands to his lips to shush him and grab his face as I disinfect his cut, apply ointment on it, and then I peel off the bandaid and place it on his right cheek.

     "Better." I whisper.

     "Thank you."

     I smile and redirect my focus on my tray and eat as much as I can, leaving the pills untouched.

     When I finished Axel sowed up my cheek, (all while I clutched unto the bedsheets) then applied ointment, and stayed with me as I drifted off to sleep.

-

     By the morning I felt better although still sore. When I showered I noticed the bruises on my legs. My right leg was healing but it's worse. So I opted to stay in the room, the same one I woke up to.

     For the next few days every time I wake, fresh flowers are placed in the nightstand and Axel visits me often to apply ointment and my bruises begin to fade ever so slow.

     But when night falls I'm disturbed with nightmares. Always the same dream but different versions. A faceless man with missing fingers. Multiple hands come out of the dark, covering my body in their tight grip only to swallow me in pain. And then theirs that dream of me swimming in a pool of black blood. But it's not mine. The blood falls from the heavens, coating the world in a stench that drowns all senses. And every night I wake in sweat.

     Today isn't any different. 

     The only difference is I can't hole myself up in the room any longer so I venture out until I find the library. I don't know what time it is, but I know it's late. Pretty late. All the lights are out.