Page 20 of Stalked By Shadows
Micah pulled a wad of paper towels out of the dispenser and wet them down before beginning to wipe down my face. The water was cold and soothing. “You sure you feel okay? Your pupils are huge. At least it’s both and not only one. If it was only one, I’d be insisting on taking you to the ER.”
“I’m a little shaky?” I said really unsure. For all I knew it could have been him making me tremble. Or memories of something in the dark. Something that reached for him, almost took him. I wondered if that was what happened to Sarah. But that couldn’t be right. It was all in my head. Those things weren’t real. “I’m crazy,” I said. “Seeing shit in the dark.”
“You’re not,” Micah assured me. He scrubbed at my hair, but frowned as it didn’t seem to be coming clean.
“Something reached for you,” I told him. “I saw it. That’s why I pushed you.” Fuck. I’d forgotten about that. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. Fuck, well I did ‘cause I saw something. But that’s all in my head. They always tell me it’s always in my head, fuck…”
“I’m fine. Let’s get you washed up some and dressed.” He tugged me to my feet and over to the sink. I scrubbed my hands, and had to strip my shirt off to rinse away some of the blood. My feet were stained brown with someone else’s blood, knees too. The stuff on my hands, face, and in my hair seemed fresher. Mine, I hoped.
Micah handed me a pair of boxers and gave me the courtesy of turning his back while I stripped out of the flimsy pants and into the boxers. I also had an oversized T-shirt in black, a pair of dark green shorts, and a pair of flip-flops. I tugged everything on, feeling marginally better even if I still felt grimy. My manbun had turned into a giant poof at some point of the evening, looking more like a poodle’s tail than a ponytail. But since my hair was soaked in my own blood, it was no use trying to fix it.
Someone knocked on the door again. “It’s Lukas,” Lukas said from the other side of the door. Micah opened it for him. Lukas glanced at me, looking me over hard, gaze finally landing on my forehead. “You sick at all?”
“No.”
“I don’t think he has a concussion,” Micah said. “Though really he should have been looked at by an EMT.”
Lukas frowned. He knew better than to suggest I go to the hospital. “I can’t leave. I’ve got a murder to investigate. People to question, videos to review.” He sighed. “You really shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
“I’m fine,” I promised him. “Just really tired. Little bit of a headache.”
“He can come to my place,” Micah said. “You can pick him up in the morning. I can watch his head, make sure he doesn’t start throwing up or anything.”
Lukas looked at Micah. “That’s not all I’m worried about.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. Often having one flashback, meant that if I went to sleep, I’d be prone to waking in the middle of another. The whole process often left me floundering in a roller-coaster of emotion and flashbacks for a few days afterward. “I’ll go home and lock myself in.”
“He’s fine with me,” Micah insisted. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“Sometimes he’s not himself,” Lukas insisted.
“Does he know anyone else in this city? Perhaps you’d like Sky to look after him? Or take him to the hospital?”
“No hospital,” I reiterated.
Micah stared at Lukas, something passing between them. “I think I’ve experienced firsthand what he can do, and his instinct was to protect me rather than hurt me. You’ve already assured me a dozen times that even during his flashbacks he’s never been violent,” Micah said.
“That we’ve seen so far.”
“Why would that change now?” Micah asked.
“You both could have been shot tonight,” Lukas pointed out.
“Because of shitty police training. He didn’t do anything. He fell. I tried to help him up and he held on to me.”
“Which the police took as possible violence against you.”
“Because they’re stupid,” Micah argued. “He was hugging me, begging me to stay with him. He was trying to protect me.”
I blinked at them, not recalling any of that. “Was that all I said?”
“You said ‘Don’t go, you’ll die. Please stay here,’” Micah said.
The memory always had me saving one of my fellow soldiers. I couldn’t even remember his name anymore. When I asked, I’d been told a handful had survived. Not even who. I think they didn’t want me talking to anyone about what really happened that day. Had I saved him? Or was that something my memory had created to ease my survivor’s guilt?
Lukas sighed. “Fine. I’ll pick him up in the morning. Let me find a rookie to drop you guys off. Do not give him any medication. He reacts to damn near everything. Even aspirin.”
“Sorry,” I said again, feeling awful that they felt they had to be so careful around me.