Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I ripped the refrigerator open and felt a measure of relief go through me when I saw a container of orange juice. I snatched it from the door and ripped the cap off as I made my way to the cabinets. I grabbed a glass and sloshed some of the orange juice into it before rushing back to the living room. Brewer was still standing watch over the man. His tail thumped wildly when he saw me. I'd have plenty of time to reward the dog for both his keen sense and his stubbornness.
I sat back down on the side of the couch and reached down to put my arms beneath the man. Not surprisingly, he fought me when I forced him to sit up.
"Le’ me lone," he choked out.
I knew better than to give in to his request. "I need you to drink this," I said forcefully as I put the glass to his lips. The man tried to resist, but I tipped his head back and as soon as he opened his mouth to protest, I forced some juice into it. He choked a little, but thankfully his instincts kicked in and he swallowed. I gave him just enough to keep him from gagging and then waited. The man muttered something incoherently at me, but when I lifted the glass to his lips again, he didn't fight me as much.
"That's it," I said encouragingly as I continued to get the juice into him. It took a good ten minutes to get him to drink all of the juice, but only when the glass was completely empty did I ease my hold on him. I set the glass on the table and used the corner of one of the blankets to wipe at the man's face. His head lolled back and forth, but he managed to keep himself upright when I released him. I reached for the glucose meter again and quickly checked his blood sugar. I was relieved to see it had already started to climb.
The man was sitting silently in front of me, his eyes closed. I clasped his neck and asked, "Sir, can you hear me?"
Several long seconds passed before he nodded tiredly.
"How are you feeling?" I asked. I wasn’t really surprised when he didn't answer me verbally. But it was a relief when he nodded his head again. "Do you think you can stay sitting by yourself?"
Another nod.
I got him situated so he could lean back against the couch cushions for support as I hurried to get the fire going. I kept an eye on him the entire time I worked. He was clearly fatigued, but some of the color seemed to be returning to his cheeks and the sweat on his brow appeared to be drying up. I couldn't see any signs that his body was still shaking, either. It took less than a minute to get the fire started. I glanced around the room and noticed that many of the items in it were, like the kitchen, knocked over or no longer in their original spots. It occurred to me that he must've been feeling his way around the cabin in the middle of the night, presumably after the power had gone out.
I returned to the couch, but this time I sat on the coffee table so as to not crowd the man. "Sir—"
"Lex," the man interrupted. "Don't like sir," he added. His voice had a hint of discomfort in it, but it wasn't my place to question it.
"Lex," I agreed. "Do you know where you are?"
"The woods," he responded tiredly. "They're quiet."
If he’d said the last part in confusion, I would've tested his blood sugar again right away, but his words held more of a disappointed quality to them. "That they are," I agreed. "That's why most people come here. To get away from the noise of their lives."
Up until that moment, the man, Lex, had kept his eyes closed. He chose that moment to lift his head and open them and I found myself struggling to breathe, though I had no idea why. His eyes were the color of storm clouds. Storm clouds that were shot with light and dark shadows at the same time. The pointer finger on my right hand began tapping as if I held my camera in my hand. I couldn't say what was more disturbing—that I wanted to photograph him or that I wanted to do more than just that.
Okay, yeah, I did know what was more disturbing. It was the latter. There was no reason to reach out to touch his forehead, but that was what I wanted to do anyway. And I still had that weird need to feel his hair.
"Is that why you're here?" he asked.
I wasn't expecting the question. It would've been easy enough to make up some blasé response, but I couldn't make any words clear my lips. Instead, all I could do was sit there and stare at him while he stared at me.