The Fence

Chapter 34: Panic

"Hey, Marcus," a deep voice murmurs above me, sturdy as a stone with matching colored eyes. I feel a warm hand wrap around mine, and I find myself seeking comfort from Grey's physical contact.

Physical contact stimulates calmness.

I can't answer him because I'm not awake. Conscious, but not awake.

I hear Grey sigh, his breath wafting onto my neck. If I was awake, I would have shuddered. "It's been a week, Kirbena." I feel him shift beside me. He lets out a chuckle. "You sure know how to play hard to get."

I would've smiled. I want to squeeze his hand.

"I haven't been in to see you much," Grey says, his voice full of remorse. "Your brother is kinda being difficult. He's your shield, you know."

Typical Ky.

"He thinks I had something to do with it. He thinks I may have shot you myself, although I don't think he actually believes this, or he would've reported me."

Yeah, he probably would've.

"I guess I did have something to do with it. I guess it is my fault."

Stop.

"I'm the one who let him in here. It's because of me that you're here right now in a goddamn coma."

Stop!

"I'm worried, Kirbena." Grey's voice sounds more distant now, like I can hear him through one ear, like he's turned away and is looking at something. "Donte's been monitoring you pretty closely."

I expected he would.

"Every time you hear a loud noise, there's a spike in your charts. What's going on in that head of yours, Marcus? I couldn't tell before, and I definitely can't tell now."

He's right; every time I hear something I'm not expecting, something just a bit too loud, a bit too quick, a bit too much like a gun, I'm thrown into a pool of red. I see myself, blood leaking from every vein in my body, sliding down my skin and staining me scarlet. I'm drowning in it, unable to swim to the surface.

"You've got some memory loss, too. I guess that's to be expected. You lost a lot of blood."

If I'm being honest, I can't recall much except for the only thing I want to forget. I remember Nixon, his rusty diamond as big as a clementine slapped in the middle of his right cheek, dark and red and prominent. His eyes, the color of blue glaciers, turning from honey to hardened candy. One hell of an actor, one loyal servant to...who was it? Krimia. No, Minerva. He loved apples. No, he pretended to love apples. He had a weapon that I gave him. No, he had a gun.

A gun that shot me.

"Will you remember me?" Grey's whisper makes me pay attention, his voice so vulnerable, barely audible. "So much has happened. Man, Kir, I wanted..." he trails off, but I feel his eyes searching my face.

"Listen," he sighs. "I've done some bad things in the past. To people, to yukos, to myself. I just don't know how much more I can take."

It feels like I'm lifting a ten-pound weight over my head because of all the effort it takes for me to finally squeeze Grey's hand, but I'm able to manage it. I blink open my eyes, trying not to squint at the light invading my vision. "Grey," I exhale. My voice is choppier than I remember. "I remember you."

Grey's stone eyes have snapped to my face, but now I see marble. He reaches over to my bedside table to grab a cup of water and presses it to my lips. I gulp at the water thankfully, not aware of how thirsty I am until my tongue feels dry the minute I down the whole cup of water. "Can I have more?"