Ava awakened to sounds of wheezing. Groggily, she opened her eyes and slowly looked at her bleak surroundings. By the door she saw a tray with some food on it, pale looking stale bread and a glass of water that didn't look clean. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. She didn't know how it got there; she figured her captor must've come while she was sleeping. She looked down. Her restraints were loosened. She slipped her arms out one at a time then moved down to free her legs. A small cough reminded her that she had woken up to a wheezing noise that had not originated from her. She turned her head to look directly behind where she was sitting. Her heart dropped into her stomach.
"Henry? Oh my god, Henry!" She ran to his side.
"It's not as bad as it looks, I...ahhhh" He said, hissing in obvious pain.
"You're not a very good liar." She attempted to lighten the conversation, but she couldn't hide the tears welling up in her eyes.
His clothes had been torn. His long pants now exposed most of his left leg and some of his right. His shirt was ripped at the neck and his hoodie was in a ball next to him on the floor.
Lacerations, bruises, dried and fresh blood mixed together. His right eye was swollen shut, and there was a large gash above his left eyebrow. Scanning her eyes further down, she was unable to see the wounds under his shirt, but she could tell he had been hit there from his posture, and the way he winced every time he shifted it. His leg was twisted at an unnatural angle. He looked as though he had been through hell, for a second she mused that this indeed was a hell of sorts.
"I thought you were dead." She said as she began to tend to his wounds.
"Nope, I'm still kicking. Although maybe not as effectively now." He spoke slowly, as though it took great effort to pronounce each syllable.
She ignored his poor attempt at humor and began to look at each wound individually.
"Can you move your leg?"
There was a silence and then a hiss of pain that escaped from his lips. She had her answer.
"It looks like it might be broken, but it hasn't punctured the skin. Just don't move it for now. I don't want you to make it worse." She advised, refusing to look at his face again, she continued to examine the rest of the injuries.
"I'll have to clean the cuts on your face before they get infected. How the hell did you get over here from the door?" She said, and she inspected the rest of him.
"I crawled on my good arm." He asked.
"You don't know that. We could be out of here any day now. "
She looked into his eyes to search for some small hint of sarcasm, but all she found was sincerity. Concealing a smirk, she huffed and continued to assess his wounds.
"Why are you holding your shoulder like that?" She asked.
"It hurts like hell."
"I thought you said that was your good arm."
"It was, before I placed all my body weight to crawl on it."
"Maybe it's dislocated. That's what it looks like to me, but I'm not a doctor."
"Can you fix it?" He asked.
"I mean, if that's even what's wrong, then maybe. I've only ever seen it done before. I'm not sure that I should, I really don't want to make it worse."
"Well, I don't see any medical professionals around. If you think you can fix it, I'm giving you my blessing to try."
"I don't know."
"I trust you." He smiled.
"Fine. I'll help you lay down. I'm warning you that this is going to hurt. Especially if I do it wrong."
"Well how do you even know what to do in the first palce?"
"I volunteer... volunteered at the hospital on weekends. I saw a doctor do this three times. Two of which occured to the same patient. Some people never learn their lesson."
"So you want to be a doctor?"
"Nurse. I'd like to be a nurse."
"Welll, nurse Ava. I do hope you fix my shoulder."
She shook her head and smirked. She knew he was attempting to use humor to make her less nervous about what she was about to do. She hated to admit that it was working.
"Tell me nurse Ava, you ever think about wearing those tight little nurses outfits with the stockings and the tiny hat? You know, I think you'd look pretty cute in that."
"Those only exist for slutty girls on halloween." she scoffed
"Well you wearing one would certainly make everyday a holiday." his smile increased in width, he knew he was getting under her skin.
"Oh now - now I might enjoy this." She said with a grin.
She stood up and took the hand of his "good" arm. She steadied herself.
"You might wanna hold on to something."
"Hold on to what?" He said nervously.
"I'm gonna count to three." She said calmly
"Ok..." He shut his eyes and held his breath.
"One...Two!"
She pulled on two, being sure to pull at the right angle and careful not to pull too hard. There was a popping sound as the shoulder went back into socket and Henry shrieked. His expression of pain quickly turned to one of relief.
"Better?" She asked.
"You pulled on two. What kind of sicko pulls on two." He exclaimed.
"Well? Did it help?"
"Yes...thank you." He admitted.
She released a breath that she didn't realise she had been holding.
"Good, now get some rest. I'll go bring the food over here, we should both eat something."
As she got up to walk away, Henry noticed that she favored her left foot over her right.
"What's wrong with your foot?" He asked.
"Huh?"
"You're walking strange." He noted.
"I," Ava hesitated, a pink blush of embarassment rising to her face, "I twisted my ankle while running." She immediately turned back towards the tray, picking it up.
"That doesn't look so good. Are you all right?" He asked.
She snickered. "I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be asking me that considering you're the one who looks like hell."
"Ouch, and here I thought I was lounging back, the perfect picture of beauty. Almost god-like, but now my ego is shattered. " She shook her head as she made her way back to him with the food.
"I'm fine, don't worry about me. Now. Eat." She commanded. She brought a piece of bread to his mouth for him to take a bite and then held up a glass of water to help the hard staleness make its way down his throat with more ease.
"You should eat too." He said.
"I will, but first I need to make sure that you do." She smiled and repeated her actions, once again lifting the bread for him to bite.
After he had eaten a sufficient amount, she finished what was left observed him in his peaceful state. He had drifted off after finishing his bread. From behind him, she brushed his hair out of his face and allowed the tears to fall freely as she whispered to him.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I tried to run, I shouldn't have run." she paused to recollect her breath. Her sobs were getting too loud and she didnt wish to wake him. Once she was calmer, she continued to talk to him as he slept.
"I should have never left you behind. I would have come back for you, but I shouldn't have done it. I won't do it again I promise. I won't leave you, I promise."
She continued to cry quietly, not knowing that his eyes were open, and he had been listening the whole time. Now he was suppressing the tears threatening to spill over. When she was done crying she moved as close to him as she could get, without actually touching him and drifted peacefully to sleep.
"I forgive you. It wasn't your fault." He whispered
"I forgive you, Ava." But she was asleep, and was unable to hear the words that she so desperately needed to.
The next day, Ava awakened with a purpose: to care for the wounds she had caused. She cleaned Henry's cuts and managed to create a makeshift sling out of her sweatshirt for his arm. When he was thirsty she got him ,water; hungry, she got him food. Then awkwardness became clear when he found himself in need to relieve himself, but unable to get up and walk to the other side of the room were a bucket was. She managed to help him up and walk and turned around for the rest.
Days were passing by more quickly. They soon turned into weeks. Over time, Henry's cuts and lacerations began to heal. His bruises went from dark purple and blue to yellow and green. Luckily, no infection occurred, as Ava made sure to clean his wounds as often as possible. His leg still remained in a great deal of pain and he was unable to walk without her assistance.
They developed a routine of sorts in regards to how she was helping him get around. During the nights, they would talk for hours about their lives before; what they used to dream about doing in the future. They would talk about their past and the future they envisioned, but never the present. The 'here and now' was far too depressing to discuss and the purpose of their conversations were to help raise their spirits and distract from their current situation.
"You have a nice house." He said.
"What?"
"I've seen your house in passing. It's nice. A nice neighborhood, but you said you didn't have any money."
"I don't. My mom works for a real estate agency. She assists with stuff around the office and helps the houses look ready to be lived in. Her boss has been letting us live in one of the houses for the past year. Once the house sells we'll have to move again, but nobody's been buying them. A little secret, they're pretty crappy on the inside."
They smiled as she went into further detail about her house, her mom, her friends, her life. She noticed that on the subject of family life he remained rather quiet, but decided not to push. The conversations brought questions that she tried not to think about too often. Was her mother ok? How long until she gives up on finding her?
Unable to hold them back for much longer, tears sprung from her eyes as the realities of their situation crushed her.
"Hey, please don't cry. If you start crying then I might cry and I'm not a pretty crier. I'm actually really ugly when I cry and I don't want to subject you to that." He joked in an attempt to get a smile out of her, but there was no such luck.
"How do you do it?" Sniffling, she asked as she stifled a sob.
"Do what?"
"Act like nothing's wrong. You act like this is just another day. Your optimism, how do you maintain it when there has been nothing but darkness for weeks? We're gonna die down here."
"No we're not," he said quickly.
"How do you know? Any minute, whoever has us here could decide we aren't worth the trouble and kill us."
"I can't lose hope, Ava. I can't wallow and sit and cry because we don't know what's going to happen. So yes I'd rather talk about other things than these depressing four walls. I'd rather not sit here in a ball and cry. Maybe you're right, any minute we could be killed. All the more reason to try and find the good, to smile one last time, to laugh. I'm sorry if I don't want to spend what little time I might have left being a melancholy pitiful shell of a person."
That night she didn't utter another word, but she knew he was right. It wasn't doing her any good sitting and crying about their situation. Days after that we're filled with more pleasant conversation topics.
They grew very comfortable with one another, they chatted with the ease of two people who had known each other for years. Ava felt herself when she was around him, and she knew she could trust him with anything. Their conversations became more daring, there was no point in hiding anything, because it wasn't as if they had other people to tell. Interactions between them became more endearing and affectionate.
Lying on his back, Henry shifted his glance from the ceiling towards Ava.
"What...was your first kiss like?" He asked.
She giggled at the question.
"God awful. It was with Mark Halls, eighth grade. I was at a party and we were playing truth or dare. He got dared to kiss me and he practically shoved his tongue down my throat. Ugh it was bad... How bout you?"
He smirked.
"It was no Mark Halls, but it was...ok. I mean it was a few years ago. She was a friend who wanted to get her first kiss over with, I wanted to get mine over with too so we just...kissed. It wasn't special, but it was nice."
"Better than mine." She smiled.
"Well, have you had any better kisses since then?"
"Not really." She admitted.
"Not even Jake Rhodes...football legend. Don't tell me that the guy every girl wants doesn't even know how to kiss." He said sarcastically.
"No, no he's..fine."
"Just fine?"
"When he kissed me, I felt....comfortable. It was nice and not too much, but it was lacking something."
"Lacking what?"
"Passion? Excitement? I'm not sure, I just know that it could have been better."
"Interesting." He said, shifting his gaze back to the ceiling.
One night while sharing their usual meal of stale bread, canned mixed vegetables, and water Henry seemed to be avoiding conversation. Talking about their predicament was not something either cared to do again, but still she brought it up. All of the questions she held inside poured out.
"How long have we been down here?" She asked.
"If I had to guess I'd say about a month." he looked at her, with a sad gleam in his eyes. They seemed to speak loudly to her before his mouth even started moving.
"Who do you think is doing this?" She asked, wincing at her own question.
"I don't know. He hasn't made any requests from us, as far as we know there have been no demands for ransom. Whoever he is, he may have plans for us, god only knows what they might be."
"He grabbed me on my way home from school. I was so close to getting home, but he managed to catch up to me. How...how did it happen for you?"
"I was on my way to work after school when a guy ambushed me from behind. Next thing I know I'm lying here on the ground and you're asleep on the other side of the room."
There was a silence as they both finished eating what little they had. After he was done Henry looked at her intensely. He moved in closer, their eyes locked. Her heart began to race.
"Ava?"
"Yes?"
"How's your ankle?" She slumped, not so visibly, but she definitely was disappointed by his question, for it was not what she was hoping he'd say. Then again, she asked herself, what exactly did she want him to say?
"It's fine." She said, attempting to conceal her disappointment.
"Feel like helping me walk around a bit?" He asked with a lopsided, gentle smile.
"Sure." She said reciprocating the smile and getting on her feet to help him stand.
When she helped him up he was facing her. As he attempted to take a step, he fumbled and clung to her for support. Their faces closer, she could feel his hot breath on her and she acted on instinct. She leaned in and captured his lips with her own for a kiss. He pulled away, to look into her eyes, his hands trailed up her body finally resting on her face. He kissed her again, this time not holding anything back. The kiss, in her opinion, did not lack anything. She felt like nothing else mattered, that her surroundings melted away. There was no way in hell she was going to let go of that feeling.
She helped him down back onto the ground. He looked up at her and smiled gently, as he cupped her cheek with his hand and drew her towards him once more. She did not smile back, but he hadn't noticed.
That night, she slept in his arms. Their clothes thrown messily in piles around them. Waking up halfway through the night shivering, Ava slipped out from Henry's arms and started dressing. Her movements pulled him out of his sleep and he did the same. Once they were dressed and warm, she laid back into his arms and he pulled her in tight.
She thought about how nothing had never felt so right. She didn't care how fast things were moving or how confused she was, she had to feel something and friendship and lust were far better than fear and depression. He was all she had left in the world, and she wasn't planning on letting him go.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked.
"I love you." She said blatantly. Their eyes hadn't met in that moment, she stared straight ahead at the wall, never blinking. She was unsure why she said it, she wasn't even sure if she meant it. Perhaps it had been the ever-present uncertainty they faced each day, not knowing which would be their last.
"I love you too." His confession sounded more sincere, but the shock of her words made his voice shaky. Sweeping her hair back, he placed a kiss on the crown of her head.
After she had fallen asleep, he held her close and let out a sob.
"I'm so sorry Ava. It wasn't meant to be like this," he whispered.
She shifted slightly in her sleep, released a soft moan and went back to dreaming.
When she woke up she was cold. She was lacking the warmth of the body that was supposed to be next to her.
"Henry?" She got up, fixed her twisted and wrinkled clothing and looking around the room. The now empty room.
She listened for a moment, half expecting to hear those horrible screams once more. To be forced to relive the worst day of her life.
"Henry?"
There was nothing but silence. She was confused, and afraid. This is what she dreaded the most, not the unknown. It was having to face that unknown alone.
"Please...Please come back." She sunk to the ground with her head between her knees as her sobs shook every bone in her body to the point that she felt herself vibrating with fear and sadness.
"Please." She whispered.