Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller (4 page)

Belatedly, I thanked him.

"What happened?" he asked, echoing my
words from the day before.

What do I tell him? I’m useless, I
can’t walk and my hands and legs don’t work. I’m a sitting target
for anyone. And I don’t know if I can trust him to protect me.

I tried to be vague. "I got out of bed,
tried to take a step and it hurt. Then I fell."
Tell him. He’ll
find out anyway. At least now you’ll see his reaction – you’ll know
if you can’t trust him.
"I can’t walk if it hurts that much," I
admitted grudgingly.

He told me to stay in bed and rest,
smiling kindly.

"I needed..." I wondered if there was a
nice way to tell him I didn’t believe he could protect me.
And
if he's as useless as my legs at present, they’re going to find me
and hurt me again...
I looked away from him as I tried not to
cry. My eyes lighted on the door beside the one leading out of the
room. "I was trying to get to the bathroom." Well, with all the IV
fluid they’d pumped into me as I slept, I did want to make use of
the facilities in the ensuite. Second to my desire to live was the
pressing need to go to the loo.

Nathan didn’t hesitate – he offered to
carry me.

I wanted to ask if it would hurt him,
but I fought the urge. He knew his own limitations – I wasn’t even
sure of mine yet. I felt like an overfilled water balloon, so my
only reply was to thank him as he carried me to the toilet.

The feeling of his skin against mine
made me self-conscious about the hospital gown I wore and how
little it covered, though Nathan didn’t seem to be fazed about it.
He lifted me up deftly, carried me to the bathroom quickly and put
me down gently, as if this were something he did every day as part
of his job.

A bathrobe would be nice,
I
thought. I decided to buy one, when I could go shopping, just in
case I was ever stuck in hospital wearing one of these again.

Nathan’s back blocked the doorway and
he didn’t say anything for a few minutes, until he burst out, "If
you want, I could ask my sister to drop by your house the next time
she comes in to see me. She could pick up some of your own clothes
for you to wear."

Mortified, I realised he was just as
aware of my near-nakedness as I was. I choked back the horrified
reply I wanted to make so I could politely refuse his offer as
coherently as possible.

I reached for the toilet paper and it
started to dawn on me how useless my hands were. First one hand,
then the other – no, I couldn’t even grasp it. But with two hands
together...I could hold something between them if I
concentrated.

Right. Play it out, carefully.
With one bandaged hand, I pushed the roll of toilet paper, making
it unroll slowly.
Okay, faster now.

"Let me know when you’re done and need
my help again."

His voice made me jump and knock the
toilet roll back the other way.

"I...I’m not done, but I may need your
help in a minute." My throat was dry and my voice failed somewhere
in the middle.
Don’t turn around. Don’t look yet,
I begged
him silently, as I tried to unroll the toilet paper again.
The
only thing worse than having to plan every step to wipe your own
bum is knowing someone else watched you do it.
Please, don’t
look.

Too late. Nathan leaned over me, deft
hands grabbing the toilet paper I wanted, before he gave it to me.
Helping me. Then he called me a kitten, wearing a worried smile. My
eyes locked on his as I used the toilet paper as quickly as I
could.

Kitten? Meow.
I struggled to
understand the comparison.
Something to do with pawing the
toilet paper?
I lifted my useless hands up and they did
resemble white paws, a little.
Why try to hide it from him? He
knows how disabled I am.
I looked up to meet his concerned
gaze. For the first time, I saw the dark circles beneath his eyes.
He lost sleep over me? He genuinely seems to want to help
me.

I made an effort to try to smile,
though my cheeks still felt too stiff and heavy to do it properly.
"Meow. I feel about as weak as a kitten, so the comparison is
probably right." I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware I was
holding. "Now, I would appreciate your help one more time, because
I think you’re right. I need to rest in bed a bit longer."

"At your service." His arms closed
around me again, carrying me back to bed, where he covered me with
the sheet, as clinical as any nurse.

As if he’d read my mind, Nathan
reminded me that while I was in hospital I could ask the nurses for
help.

Does he realise that I can’t press
the nurse call button?
I kept my eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t
read that thought, too. Then inspiration hit, as I thought of
something true that wouldn’t sound like an excuse. I told him I
didn’t like strangers touching me.
Too many strangers have
touched me, hurt me...
I felt myself shudder at the memories
that threatened to pull me back down into despair. I tried to focus
on what he was saying, his words a lifeline out of the dark.

"And the last time you asked a random
stranger for help, you ended up in hospital with him and now you
can’t get rid of him – he even followed you into the bathroom."

This is a joke,
I told myself.
He’s trying to be funny. But I’ve never asked him for help, yet
he keeps helping me.
I looked down at my lap, where his warm
hand covered both of mine. The contact didn’t make me shudder – in
fact, it felt comforting. I looked up again to meet his worried
eyes and wistful smile.
I want to trust you,
I thought.

"After you saved my life, got shot and
even helped me wipe my..." I tried to put it into words, but
failed. I started again. "I don’t think you qualify as a random
stranger any more. I would like to think you're a very good friend,
even if I don’t know you very well."
Will you be my friend,
Nathan, or are you going to join the list of bastards I want to
kill?

He made a weak joke in reply, but the
real answer was in his expression. For the first time, his smile
reached his eyes, which didn’t look worried. Just relieved.

Part 13

Dark – Chris – Falling – Card –
Headache

"Oh shit! You're better than I
thought."

I felt my body falling – but I didn’t
hit the ground. His arms tightened around my back, pressing my face
against something soft. The knife slipped from my fingers as I
tried to stop him from smothering me.

The impact with the floor jolted me,
but it was softer than I expected. The restraining arm released
me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the
dizziness to fade. I needed to fight. I knew what I was lying on
and it wasn't good.

I almost whimpered in fright as I felt
the foam mattress depress beneath his weight, not far from me. I
slid my hand carefully into my pocket for the card, desperate for
another blade to replace the one I'd stabbed into the mattress
instead of him.

One hand at my shoulder, another on my
thigh stopped me dead. I froze in fear.

"One, two…" he murmured.

What about three? What happens on
three? I wanted to scream, biting down so I didn't make a
sound.

With an ease that suggested plenty of
practise moving unconscious people, he rolled me over onto my back.
I shoved my hand deeper into my pocket, fishing for a weapon.

If only I could see to use it.

My head pounded its own rhythm as his
fingers crept beneath my neck. I could feel the heat of him close
beside me, leaning over me. The ache intensified as he lifted my
head.

I couldn't see, but I sure could spit.
"If you're going to try to force me to give you a blow job, I'll
bite your chipolata of a cock right off." I had the card out of my
pocket and I was ready to stab him with the corkscrew if I could
pull it out.

He moved away, to my considerable
satisfaction. I felt his weight ease off the mattress and breathed
again. I'd found the edge of the scissors.

He laughed softly as his hand closed
over both my fingers and the Swiss Card. "Fair warning. You won't
need that against me. Put it away. You might need it later."

He clicked on a torch, searching for
something. I blinked, trying to focus. My heart sank as I realised
he'd shut the door behind him. I prayed it wasn’t locked.

"Here. Don't lose this." He took the
card from my hand and slid the knife back in. "Good thing you
stabbed the mattress and not me."

"Why?" I spat back, shoving the card
back in my pocket.

"I can't help you if I'm dead or dying.
Here. It's juice." He pushed a plastic bottle into my hand.

I opened the bottle, turning my head to
the side to drink so I didn't bring on the dizziness again. My
mouth tasted horrible and I tried to swish away all traces of drugs
or blood before I swallowed.

Silently, he waited.

When I'd lubricated my throat enough, I
interrupted his reverie. "Why would you help me?" I struggled to
sit up again.

He dropped the torch on the floor,
lifting both hands to my chest, stopping just before he touched me.
Like he wanted to push me down again, but he didn’t dare. "No
hurry. Lie down as long as you need to, until you recover. He gave
you a second dose of chloroform in the car, so you were under for a
while."

"You want me lying down so you can rape
me. I heard you talking." I glared at him, hoping he could see my
malice in the dim light. "You stay away from me or I'll use the
knife on you."

Part 14

"I heard you were awake, hon." A
motherly-looking woman in a hospital uniform smiled at me, giving
me a quick wink as she placed a tray on the table over my bed. "I
wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I picked out the best of this
morning’s breakfast menu for you. I’ll give you your menu, too, so
you can order what you like for tomorrow." She poured me a glass of
orange juice.

"Thank you," I replied in a hushed
voice.

She smiled in reply, before she left
through the open door. I could see the hospital corridor outside my
room, with the food trolley full of breakfast trays.

I glanced over at Nathan, who was very
focussed on his food, his mouth already full.

I guess it’s not poisoned, then.
I looked down at my tray. A covered plate, a glass of orange juice,
a box of cereal in a bowl with packaged milk and a small bowl of
diced fruit. It wouldn’t have looked out of place on an
aeroplane.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d
had anything to eat or drink. I wasn’t sure how my stomach would
cope.

I stretched one hand out for the orange
juice, then realised I’d need both hands for this. I cradled the
glass in between the bandages, like a hot drink on a cold day, and
took a cautious sip before putting the glass down again.
I’ll
wait a few minutes, then see if I should have anything else. What
was the last thing I had? Oh, that Coke. A warm can Nathan'd had in
his pocket on the beach. He'd cracked it open, drunk a little to
show me it was okay, then he'd helped me drink it. Giving me the
energy to do something stupid that got him shot. NO...don’t think
about that now.
I forced myself to concentrate on the orange
juice, the fruit and the covered plate.
Don’t look at the bowl
with the milk.

I focussed so hard on the tray I wasn’t
aware of Nathan getting out of bed until he came between me and my
breakfast, leaning over me to press the button to call a nurse. I
exclaimed in surprise – I’m sure I swore.

He pretended he hadn’t heard. "You need
someone to help you with your breakfast," he said.

Don’t need help yet. Right now I
just need to decide whether I’ll keep the orange juice down. One
more sip.
I reached for the juice carefully, concentrating so
hard my teeth ground together. "I was managing fine," I told
him.

Then I wasn’t. Something went wrong and
the orange juice tipped off the tray onto the bed.

Between my damaged hands and useless
legs, the most I could do to get away from the mess was to swing my
legs off the side of the bed, shuffling toward the pillows.
Now
what?
I wanted to get up and rip the damp sheets off the bed,
bundle them into a washing machine and get fresh ones. But I
couldn’t.

Nathan stood frozen with his mouth
open, just staring at me.

I looked back at the juice, running
across the top of the sheets toward the bed's lowest point. Of
course, this was the bit bearing the most weight – compressed under
my backside.
Orange juice in open wounds, soaked into my
dressings. Torture. I can avoid this.

This will hurt, too
, I told
myself,
but it’s only a few steps
. I fixed my eyes on the
chair by my bed and took a deep breath.

Warm and gentle, Nathan’s arms lifted
me off my bed. My head against his chest, I could both hear and
feel the rumble of his voice as he said quietly, "Please, let me
help."

Surprise. Relief. Comfort.
I feel
safe
, I realised. Tears of gratitude sprang to my eyes and I
struggled not to shed them. Distracted, I barely noticed as he
bypassed the chair to lay me carefully in his bed. He turned away
from me almost immediately, shifting the breakfast trays around
until they were side by side on a table in front of me, blurring as
my tears multiplied.

I reached for a tissue automatically,
but his hand was there first.
I’m here to help,
his eyes
said, though he didn’t say a word.

I expected him to give me the tissue,
but I was stunned as he touched the tissue to my eyes, my cheeks
and my nose, wiping my face carefully as if he did this every day.
It wasn’t until he turned away, crossing the room to drop the
tissue in the bin, that I found my voice.