What she saw could never be unseen,
and what had been done could never be undone. She despised herself for her
foolish ignorance, and she knew ignorance was an invalid, useless excuse. Her blindness added to the horror, and
she fought hating herself. The images of torture in Khaos tormented her and
captivated every part of her mind every second of every day. Her reality had
become a blur. She saw no one. She saw no thing. She heard no one. She heard no
thing. She hadn’t looked Johnathon in the eyes for weeks. She hadn’t touched
him, and she was deadened to his touch. No touch no matter how intimate and
sincere could console her. Her fierce devotion and adoration for him was buried
deep beneath her misery.
Sharp breaths of agonizing pain
would wake her from her sleep every night. The grief was so deep in her soul
her entire body felt its stinging ache. Some nights she would pull her knees to
her chest and wrap her arms around them in failing attempts to shield the gaping
hole inside from more plundering blows. Other nights she would grab hold of the
mattress or the side of the headboard and exert every ounce of energy she had
to try and exhaust herself of the strengthening agony. Her body convulsed, and
her erratic breathing would turn quickly to uncontrollable sobs. She did not
work to restrain herself. She had no pride and no strength to conceal the wound.
Her heart beat like it would rupture, full with emptiness. There were moments
she thought she would succumb to the torment and die. On those nights, her crying
turned to groans and whimpers of utter despair. Johnathon would try to hold
her, but she could not feel his touch. Her senses were numb with sorrow. Distracted
with hopelessness, she would push his every effort away. He would sit up in the
bed next to her and hide his face in his hands as he listened to her turmoil.
When she would finally calm and fall back into a feverish sleep, he would lie
as close to her as he could and place his hand in hers. He knew it would only
be a matter of time before she awoke, pushed him away and suffered again.
One night, incapacitated with
exhaustion, Elizabeth shuddered in and out of sleep continuously throughout the
night with shortness of breath. She was fighting for consciousness, but her
body would not allow it. Her shirt was wet with sweat, and her chest moved up
and down in a violent rhythm. Johnathon had not attempted to lie down or close
his eyes. He wrestled with her trying to grab her hand and hold her, but even
in her unconsciousness she pulled away and withdrew into herself. When she
finally awoke to the anguish, an awful lamenting began. This one was the worst,
and he could not bear it. He moved quickly and put his arm around her. She
pushed hard against his chest moving him away from her. He fought the urge
stirring in his gut to weep with her.
“Elizabeth, please.”
She didn’t hear him. All she could
hear was the mourning of those locked in Khaos. She was too troubled to recognize
that her wailing began to match theirs. He couldn’t sit helpless any longer watching
her suffer. He wrapped his arm firmly across her stomach and pulled her to him.
Her back met his chest, and she was too faint to fight him. He detained her
gently, refusing to release his hold. She let go of her desperate grasp on the
mattress and both of her arms wrapped around his, and she clung to him with all
the strength left in her. He moved carefully with her every movement as she
shook, and he kept his breathing steady. Using up the last of her physical
strength, she rolled over in his arms and buried her face in his chest. Her
arms and hands fell limp against him, and her sobs collapsed relentlessly into
him. His hands remained on her back as her heaving turned to quiet cries, and
her quiet cries turned to silent deep breaths. With her forehead pressed
against his chest, the trembling faded. He knew she had to be cold as she lay
uncovered, but he would not risk moving his arms from her. He didn’t realize that Elizabeth felt
the warmth of his body and of his affection. For the first time in a long time,
she was aware of him and awake to his love. She paid close attention to his
breathing, and she remembered his unwavering strength. Overwhelmed, she moved
to sit up. He shifted his weight quickly to fix whatever was wrong.
“No, it’s ok,” she said through a
whisper as she turned to face him.
He was sitting up leaning back on
his hands at attention, and his eyes carefully studied her. For the first time
in weeks, her eyes met his and she looked at him. She saw him. In an instant,
the mental fog surrounding her love for him vanished. She watched him as they
sat in silence. She saw her pain reflected in his countenance. She realized
that as she was drowning, she held him under the water with her. He was careful
not to move and break her gaze. He let each breath move very softly and
cautiously through his lips. He kept his eyes on hers and refused to blink,
afraid that if he did, her eyes would no longer be on him when they reopened.
She had forgotten the power behind the sincerity in his eyes. She was
speechless by her ability to fall blind to his irrevocable loyalty. She shook
her head in disbelief at herself as she stared at him. She placed her hand
gently over his heart. He fell into her touch besieged by how much he missed
her affection. Her eyes were broken but steady. Her voice was frail but sure.
“I love you.”
Although he had told her countless
times over the past few weeks and received no response, there was no hesitation
in his reply.
“I love you.”
