Page 27 of Fallen to Thievery
So, itdidbother him. Grayson opened the bag, and rummaged through it, taking out the tarp and tent as well as a flint stick. The sounds around us were getting more intense. The only visible sign that Grayson was also bothered by it, was his hands stopping for a second, each time we heard something close by. But that was the only acknowledgement of the things in our surroundings we dared. We needed to get the fire started or get out of sight. Grayson seemed to feel the same urgency as he walked through the trees at the edge of the clearing, picking up wood.
When the flames finally danced in the breeze, relief washed through me, eliciting a sigh from my lips. Grayson shook out the tarp and tied it to the trees, over me and the fire. He took out a steel pot and my water bottle from the bag, filling the pot with water and placed it in the fire. I scooted closer, trying to warm my numb hands. It was so cold; my teeth were rattling. Without Grayson’s warm body that somewhat sheltered me, the cool breeze was slicing right through me. But the cold in my limbs, mercifully, kept my mind numb.
Grayson continued to set up camp. He pitched the small emergency tent, working fast and precise. It was clearly only meant to house one person. When he was done, he placed my sleeping bag and one of his own inside the tent. My heart faltered at that.
Gods, not this again.
But Grayson had said he wasn’t like that. But I had also been naïve enough to blindly trust Digger. My eyes clamped shut. Digger was supposed to be my saviour. Instead, he tried to take advantage of me. He had asked me if anyone knew where I was. He never planned on getting me out of the forest.
I was angry at myself for stopping Grayson from killing him. Digger should rot in hell. I hoped that he was still lying in the dirt, and that whatever lurked in this forest would finish him off.
The sudden rustling next to me made me jump. It was Grayson. He was taking out some of my clothes and a washcloth from the bag. His hands were still bloody. My captor placed the pot of steaming water by my feet and dropped the washcloth in it.
He spoke to me for the first time since this afternoon. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. Get yourself cleaned up. I’m going to get some more wood.” He walked off into the trees, leaving me stunned. Was he willingly walking into the woods to give me privacy? There was plenty of firewood at the edges of the clearing.
I was grateful. The thought of stripping out of my clothes with a man present disgusted me. I looked down at myself for the first time. Mud caked most of my body. With a quick glance to make sure he was gone, I stood and peeled my wet clothes off. I grabbed the washcloth and started at my face, working my way down. By the time I was done, the water in the pot was almost black.
The dry, clean clothes weren’t very warm but felt heavenly, nonetheless. I threw the dirty water out of the pot and poured in some clean water before placing it back in the fire. Scooting over on the stump, not willing to stand on my foot, I opened Grayson’s backpack. There wasn’t much in his pack. Only two sets of clothes crumpled in there, a water bottle and flint. Seems like he didn’t need much to survive out here. I took out some clothes and placed them on the stump, where he had laid mine. He was just as dirty as I was. And bloody too.
Why the fuck am I giving a damn?
Cold. I was so cold. I huddled closer to the fire, trying to warm my face. My nose and lips were numb. When I looked up, Grayson was standing at the treeline watching me. He held a pile of wood in his arms, soaking wet. His black t-shirt was plastered to his skin.
“What?” I snapped. Him looking at me still unnerved me, and my nerves had taken all it could.
He walked over and dropped two logs into the fire. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
I looked away. No, my name was the only thing I had left. “I’m going to sleep,” I said instead, lifting off the stump, trying not to put pressure on my aching ankle.
“Not yet.” He lightly pushed me down again.
I glared at him. I was so done having men order me around, having them think they could do with me and my body as they pleased.
But Grayson dropped to his knees in front of me and took out the first aid kit. He must have packed the hiking bag himself, knowing theprecise pocket to open. He carefully took my boot and sock off and started inspecting my foot. His fingers were cold. His touch was firm but careful. “It’s not broken. Just badly sprained.”
My foot was swollen beyond recognition with purple splotches all over. Grayson rubbed an ointment on it, before wrapping it tightly in a bandage. When he was done, he looked me over. I squirmed under his gaze, wishing he would just let me be.
“Does anything else hurt?” His voice was soft.
Everything was hurting. But most of all my heart. I had always been kind and respectful to everyone and everything, and I had the impression that the universe would reciprocate in kind. But it hadn’t.
Grayson was still waiting for an answer. So, I shook my head. He sighed and pulled his fingers through his wet hair. When he looked back at me, his jaw was clenching and unclenching.
“Did he manage…” He let his breath out in a huff, instead of finishing his question.
“No,” I said quickly and looked away. Gods, if Grayson had come five seconds later…
I couldn’t breathe. I stood, not sure where I was headed. But Grayson stood with me. He placed his arm around my torso and lifted me, carrying me to the tent.
“I’ll get you something to eat,” he said as he placed me in front of the tiny tent.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You should eat something. Your body is in shock.”
Just the thought of arguing with him drained my already dead body even more. I got into the tent. It looked even smaller from the inside. My throat closed up. I tried to shift our sleeping bags as far away from each other as possible.
Grayson was back and handed me an apple. I took it listlessly without argument. “You should use the water before it’s too hot.”
