Content to sleep for the rest of eternity, I snuggled closer to whatever warmth was engulfing me. Vaguely, I was aware that firm arms were wrapped around me, but I wasn't hardly conscious enough to care whose. I was also aware of fingers carding through my hair, and I let myself indulge in the fantasy that I was waking up in my roommate's bed back at the dorms, feeling him comfort me after a long day of classes and studying. It was a pleasant fantasy that I almost believed was real for a minute or two.

But such a blissful image couldn't last, and soon I was awake enough to remember that I was not in my roommate's bed; I wasn't even in the dorms. Slowly opening my eyes, I saw the nightstand that I remembered sat next to Cliff's bed, and heard the quiet breathing of someone laying awake behind me. I was pressed back against Cliff's chest with his chin resting on my head as his fingers played with my hair absentmindedly. I didn't know if I should move.

"Excuse me..." I whispered. "I-I want to get up..."

Cliff stopped touching my hair almost immediately and I took the chance to sit up. As I scooted to the far side of the bed, Cliff lifted himself up on one elbow. "You probably shouldn't be moving," he said. "Your wounds could reopen."

"I'm fine," I said. I stumbled away and into the bathroom.

Once I was alone, I stared into the bathroom mirror. I hadn't been aware enough to take noticed the night before, but now that I had slept I could clearly see how beat up I was. Looking myself over, I found I had bandages all over my arms and legs, and whatever wasn't covered in white cotton was purple with bruises. I was the definition of a mess and it was painful to see. I tugged on the long sleeves of Cliff's shirt until they covered my hands, not hard to do when the shirt was already too big, and went back into the bedroom.

Cliff was gone, so I assumed he must have stepped out to make breakfast. I didn't feel like moving around anymore than I already had, so I returned to the bed and pulled the sheets across my lap. I was still tired from everything that had happened, but I wasn't sure if I should sleep more or try to stay awake while Cliff was home. I was still debating when the door opened. I couldn't help it, I jumped a little.

Cliff definitely noticed, but he didn't say anything. "Are you hungry?" he asked, holding a bowl of the same soup from the night before.

Even though I hadn't had much to eat in the past week, I wasn't hungry. But I nodded anyways, and he set the bowl on the nightstand beside me. "Thank you..." I said.

He gave me a curt nod in return. "I have some things to do, so I'll be back in a little bit," he said. "Will you be alright?"

"Yes," I said and watched as he left the room.

I only ate about half of the soup, but it was plenty to fill me. I set the remaining food back on the nightstand and made myself comfortable in the bed. Rolling to my side, I could see Cliff outside the window. He was feeding the three dogs that had chased me before. He set a bowl of dog food down for each of them and they scarfed down their food like they'd been starving longer than me. Pleased with their meals, they rubbed on Cliff's legs, begging him to pet them. He told them no at first becuase he had things he needed to do, but after some persuasive yips, he relented. He sat in the grass and the three large dogs jumped all over him, licking and barking with delight. He laughed as he tried to keep them from trampling him into the dirt.

At first, I watched him without much interest. But the more I watched, the more painful it became to see. I remembered rolling around in the grass when my best friend Kevin had gotten his new puppy for his birthday. He had invited me over to see him and we spent hours teaching him fetch and how to sit. It made me homesick.

Covering my face with a pillow, I decided sleeping was better than facing reality, and I had almost succeeded when I heard the bedroom door open. For a few minutes, I listened to Cliff wander about the room haphazardly, trying to be quiet but failing miserably. Then there was a creak on the bed and I pulled the pillow away from my face quickly.

Cliff stared at me from the other side of the bed. "Sorry," he said. He looked guilty for having woke me.

"It's okay," I said, sitting up. "I wasn't really sleeping."

"Still," Cliff sat on the bed, "You're recovering. You should sleep."

He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean I felt comfortable enough to sleep. Though he had saved my life, he had also been the one to take it from me to begin with. I must have expressed this somehow without realizing it because Cliff left the bed to sit at his desk. He didn't say as such, but I could see the disappointment in the droop of his shoulders.

My head began to throb as I sat there, making my vision spiral slightly. I reached up to rub it away and winced as I accidentally pressed on a bruise. That didn't do wonders for my head, and I sighed.

"Do you have a headache?" Cliff asked.

He had turned around in his chair and was looking at me. Though I didn't respond, he left the room and came back with a glass of water and a small pill. I was reluctant to take what could have been literally any drug, but Cliff didn't seem to have any malicious intentions, so I thanked him and took the medicine.

"That should help the pain," he said. "Might knock you out for a couple hours though."

I swallowed the pill and handed the glass back to Cliff. "In a bad way or a good way?" I asked.

"Whatever way helps you rest," he said.

It didn't really matter, but I felt the urge to ask, "How do you know so much about medicine?" as he sat down at his desk.

"I work at a hospital. I'm a nurse," he explained. "That's why I work such odd hours."

I blinked a him. "You're a nurse?" I said, skeptical. "But you kill people. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose? You're killing people and saving others at the same time?"

"I'll admit, it does sound a bit strange," he said.

The word "strange" didn't quite cover it. "You don't kill your patients, do you?" I asked.

He chuckled and turned to look at me. "That would probably get me fired," he said. "And, call me weird, but I'd like to keep my job."

I don't know what compelled me, especially since it wasn't even that funny, but his sarcasm made me laugh and I shook my head. "You are weird," I said.

When I looked at Cliff again, his eyes had softened. "That's the first time I've ever seen you smile," he said.

My cheeks flushed.

"You look good smiling," Cliff told me. "It gives you a sort of... brightness."

I frowned as I watched him leave the room, feeling like I wanted to scowl but not really knowing why. I went into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I blinked at myself several times and forced an awkward smile that didn't look very bright at all; if anything, it looked uncomfortable. I stopped smiling. When was the last time I had smiled? The night my family was murdered flashed in the back of my mind and I left the bathroom.

I wasn't supposed to smile, not at Cliff, not for Cliff. I wasn't supposed to laugh at his jokes. Cliff was what had taken all the happy times away, he wasn't allowed to bring them back. Still... I couldn't help pinching the skin on my cheeks self-consciously.

A while later, I heard the front door open and shut. Watching out the window, I could see Cliff get in his car and drive away. He must have been called to the hospital, I thought. For several minutes, I sat in quiet contemplation. Then I walked to the bedroom door and turned the handle. It wasn't locked. Outside the door was the living room with a small table and a leather couch. The kitchen was behind a bar-top, and past that was a small room with a washer and dryer. I hadn't seen much of the rest of the house during my first attempted escape, but now that I looked at it, it seemed cozy.

I walked to the back door and looked out at the late afternoon sun that shined through the trees. I itched to open the door and run, but the fear of what may follow if I was caught kept my arm by my side. Besides, I doubted I would be able to find my way through the trees any better than I had the first time.

I left the back door and sat down on the couch, laying my head over the short back to stare at the front door in longing. Something, I wasn't sure what at the time, kept me in my seat. Maybe it had been the idea that I owed Cliff for saving my life. I didn't, but it felt like I did. Maybe it was the thought that I could change him. In the beginning, I had hated him. I had thought him to be the lowest this world could create. But now... Now he was caring, and he kept me safe. He had tried his hardest to make me happy, even knowing I would probably never be grateful to him. He even fought for me. It was strange, but I'd say it was almost like he loved me. Maybe... it was the thought that he was changing me.

*******

Subscribe to my YouTube at: Melanie Eberheart

Donate to my Patreon at: patreon.com/MelanieEberheart

Buy me a coffee on my Ko-fi at: Ko-fi.com/melanie_eberheart

Tweet me on Twitter at: twitter.com/MelanieEberhea1

Check out my Facebook at: www.facebook.com/melanie.eberheart.1

Or follow me on Tumblr at: nekosaysmeow333

-Nekoco