The Story of Blood and Roses 79 He Had Mercy

I eventually woke up. My leg was cold and wet and I felt cold fingers curled around my ankles. To say that I was spooked would be an understatement. I took a moment before I opened my eyes, my hand gripping the gun that was resting between my skin and the waistband of my shorts. I pulled it out in one smooth move and pointed it towards whatever was gripping my leg in its frozen grip. My eyes were wide and waiting, half expecting to see pale, broken skin and bleeding eyes to the face of the creature that was holding onto me. Something slithering across the floor maybe, but I was not ready to see the tear-soaked face of Cienna who seemed to be fast asleep on the floor. Her body was curled up in front of my foot, her head resting on the floor right in front of my left foot, and her hands holding my foot like a vice.

A cold chill went through me as I bend forward and tried to pry her hands away from my leg. Her grip tightened, and her face contorted into an expression of agony. I leaned in more, trying my best not to fall over or startle her and shook her shoulders gently.

She groaned, and I felt nothing but pity for her. I remembered how she had spat at me and glared at me whenever she had seen me. I had never seen her so... vulnerable. She looked like she knew too much about something and was trying to fight it and push the thoughts away as fast as they entered her mind.

"Cienna," I whispered, a bit scared about how she would react when she woke up. Her eyes fluttered and she looked bewildered as her eyes darted around as she tried to understand where she was. She gasped and her fingers around my ankles left me suddenly, making me almost topple over. I gripped the hand rest of the couch and steadied myself, my eyes never leaving her frame.

For the longest period of time, Cienna seemed to be transfixed by something on the bed... or something that was not on it. I watched it play out as it happened. She crawled on her knees and moved towards the bed almost hesitantly. She gripped the side of the bed and pulled herself upright.

A wretched cry filled the room, and I lurched forward to get a hold on her as she collapsed. Her body hit the bed and she started to wrack with sobs. I inched forward, perplexed and worried and looked at her face, she sobbed; her eyes were wide open, tears slid sideways into the bed sheets and she pushed her face into the mattress, her mouth was curved in a smile; not a ludicrous one, but a softer, sane one. Surprised, I sat on the bed and pushed the hair out of her face. She looked up, surprised by the gesture and smiled more freely at me. Her sobs ebbed down to sniffles and the tight hold of her fists of the sheets loosened. She gave out a startled laugh and turned her body around. She was lying, with her face towards the ceiling.

"Thank God... fuck... He had mercy. Thank you... thank you!" her laugh died down after a few moments, and I found myself staring at her. I had never seen her like this, looking so vulnerable and human, so... liberated. This was not the Cienna I had come to know and be indifferent to (for most of the part). She was a whole different person, altogether; all light and joy and a chaotic past that left her catatonic and angry throughout her years. This was so different that for the first time I found myself sincerely wondering about what had happened to her without any hidden motive behind my curiosity.

"What happened to you?" I found myself asking. She inched her hand closer to where mine was and placed it over mine. She placed her weight on the other and tried to sit up. I helped her sit up.

"Thank you," she mumbled as she pulled her knees to her chest.

"I'll go call Anthony," I informed her as I tried to stand up.

"Yes," she whispered. "He needs to be here when I say this." And when I looked into her eyes, I saw sadness. There was no fear. She noticed me looking and gave me a feeble smile. "He's saved me for so long. I think he's gotten used to it, but I don't know what he'll do this time. He'll save me, I think. He does have a savior complex. But then again..." she trailed off, scrutinizing me. "He is all set and he has you... maybe he doesn't need me any longer."

"You should rest," I told her as I left.

"He doesn't let me touch him. It's all platonic, if you wanted to know." My whole body rotated as I yearned to look at her. My startled look amused her, it seemed. "Don't look surprised. Anthony wouldn't want to contact any diseases from a piece of trash like me. The man hates committing to a relationship; he uses me to avoid those."

"Don't lie. And I don't care if he's celibate or not." It was mostly true. I hoped it was, at least.

"And the sun rises out of my ass, darling," she scoffed.

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Chapter end

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