What Lasts in Us

CHAPTER FIVE

I wake with a start, feeling like I've been through a blender – or better yet, been hit by a bus. But that's not what woke me up. It's the press of something cool against my skin, just above my eye. My vision clears, and everything comes into focus – the room, the candles. I'm in someone's bedroom, with peeling wallpaper, ageing furniture. The two windows are covered, a blind in front with pieces of wood hammered haphazardly over the top. There are two doors to my right, one which I assume leads to a bathroom, the other being an exit, and opposite–

I jerk back, confused, brain slow and fuzzy. The sudden movement makes me nauseous, and sends a horrible ache rushing to the front of my skull.

"D-don't." I blink, eyes watering. My head wants to flop back down, but I can't rest until I get a grasp on the situation. "I – I don't need your help."

Nate sits beside me on the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight. He leans on one hand, the other holding what I think to be a cloth or rag. He releases a sigh. "You mean you don't want my help," he says. "Which I am inclined to disagree, as you can't even help yourself."

My head feels like a bowling ball. I collapse back onto the bed, hitting the pillow which feels nothing but fantastic and absolutely wonderful. I haven't slept in a bed for months.

"This is all your fault," I say to the ceiling. "All because you tried to shoot me."

"And you getting hit by a tree is my fault as well?"

Now I have to look at him, just so he can see me roll my eyes. It proves to be difficult, but so worth the effort. "Do I need to give you a recap of what went down?" I ask. "Because I can – no wait, I will so you don't get anything wrong. Firstly, you tried to kill me. Secondly, it was those shots that attracted those guys. Three, as I was running away from those guys, the ones that heard your gunshots, I ran into a tree branch. See how all these incidents have the same source?" I give him a pointed look. "I would be fine if you'd just left me alone."

Nate scrubs a hand over his face. "You don't know that," he says. He tosses the rag into the bowl that sits on the table beside him. "Those guys could've come by regardless. Anything could've happened." He looks at me now, eyes intense though half his face is concealed by shadows. "But what's the point of dwelling on it when we can't go back in time to change it? What happened happened."

"And do you know what I think?" I feel the longer I lie the down, the better I'm getting. Obviously not all at once, but very slowly. I'm not sure if I can manage sitting up, but I feel much better than when I'd first opened my eyes. "Fuck you."

Nate jumps to his feet, back to me. He runs his hands through his hair, a rough motion, before he whirls back to face me. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"My problem!?" It's hard to be indignant lying flat on my back. So, to level the playing field, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Which isn't a good idea. My head spins, and the room spins with it. "This is all your fault!"

"Because I saved your life?"

I can't help it – I have to get up. A horrible feeling washes over me as I pull myself to my feet, and I wait for it to pass before I speak. I place a hand to the wall just in case I decide to fall over – or throw up, whichever happens first.

"You should've left me alone! You should've let me get the puppy and then go on my merry way!"

Nate watches me, blue eyes wary. "You were practically eating that woman," he says.    

"I don't care what you think you saw!" I shout. "You should've just left me alone!"

"Do I have to go through this again?" he says, his voice dropping an octave. Oh yes, he's definitely angry now. "I made a mistake – anyone in my position can understand that. And I apologised to you."