“Right.” Nick started picking me up, and I heard him growl in pain.
“Nick, just leave me for now, and you can rest.”
“Nope. You need to get inside and in bed. Arg! Damn it.” Nick struggled with me in his arms.
“I’m not that heavy. Geez, give a girl a complex.”
“How do you do it?” He adjusted my weight in his arms so there would be less on his injured one.
“Do what?”
“That.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Still covering my eyes, I wasn’t ready to see the world yet.
“Your sense of humor. How can you make a joke in this fucked up situation? I mean, look around us.”
“I’m not opening my eyes. I’ll puke.”
“Right. Where do you find it in you?”
“My stomach.”
“Oh, my god, Elaina…”
“Sorry. It’s the only way I can get through things sometimes. I don’t want to feel anything, and if I push it away with a joke or some solid sarcasm then, in my mind, I will be okay.”
“Elaina, you have to feel all of this. It’s so fucked up.” Nick started up the stairs. I ignored his statement. It was fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up, but how else was I supposed to deal with it? I was sick of crying.
“How’s Mom?”
“Not good. I’m going to check on her once I get you into your bed.”
“Let me know.”
“I will.” I slowly opened my right eye when Nick set me down in my old bed and headed out. I was still dizzy, but the world felt a little calmer than it did when I was outside. I tried opening my left eye, but it took a moment to build up the courage.
Finally, I grew a pair of balls and popped them both open. I was afraid of what I would see. It was nice to be able to hide behind my eyelids, but I needed to face my reality again.
My room was pretty much how I left it when I moved out. Pale yellow walls with white trim, white and pink floral quilt. Thankfully, the bed was full sized because I was going to have Henry stay with me. I couldn’t bear to be without him after what I had just witnessed. I looked over at my white vanity with my old pictures around the mirror. It made me smile to see all of it again.
“Nick!” He popped his head in the door. “Can you bring Henry up in here with me?”
“Are you sure?” I felt tremendously guilty because of how I had been treating him. I could have lost him to that giant fucking gorilla of a man out there. It was a major dose of reality. My Henry had died, but he was clawing his way back from the black abyss of his past one foot at a time.
“Yes. I want to be there for him as much as I can.” He nodded. “Mom?”
“She’s still hanging on. She’s a fighter. I wonder where you got it from.” He winked at me and went back downstairs.
It seemed like hours later before I heard Nick finally coming up the stairs, helping Henry every step of the way. They paused in the doorway so Henry could catch his breath and swallow his cries of pain. I was pissed when I saw what was happening.
“Why didn’t you carry him?!”
Nick laughed at me. “Me? Carry him? I think he would rather do it this way,” he motioned his free hand and arm like Vanna White, “than accept my assistance.” Then Nick’s face went dark. “Not that I’m really fond of him right now.” Henry held onto the wall, and slowly made his way to the bed. “I’m heading back out to help them with Kellan. Any special requests, Mr. Bossman?”
“Tie him up downstairs. I’ll come down and see him when I’m able. I have a few questions that I need to ask him.” As Henry lay back onto the bed, he said every cuss word that I knew, plus others I had no idea existed. When he finally did make it, he breathed a great sigh, then cringed. “Motherfucker…ugh. Shit.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Peachy. And you, love?”
“Fabulous.”
“Brilliant.”
“Yup.” My curiosity was burning. I needed to know about Kellan. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Don’t play stupid. Tell me about Kellan.” Henry’s breath stopped for a moment, while he shifted his body. He was quiet, trying to put his words together. I laid there, fighting the urge to kiss him, make love to him, beat the ever loving shit out of him, cry over him, sleep, and throw up all at the same time.
“Well, obviously, he’s one of Roger’s head-fucks. One of the VP’s of the program, I suppose. Let’s just call him ‘Vice Arseface’.” I tried not to laugh because it would probably have made me throw up. “He was one of the pricks who used to hand out the beatings, like a fast food chain hands out food laced with heart disease. He always knew exactly where to get me first.” He stopped. I rolled over to look at him while he was trying to explain.