Touched by Death

by T. L. Martin

  We’re walking the foggy line between life and death.

  I spin around so I can see him, and my heart tightens in my chest, crushing me all over again. He looks down at me, gaze boring into mine, but the green has all but washed away. Black and grey clouds are fixed on me, his expression a stone wall. A stranger and yet not a stranger at all.

  “Enzo,” I whisper, reaching up and gently cupping his face with my hands. “My sweet, strong Enzo.”

  I slide my fingers over his jaw, until they’re brushing back the hair on his forehead. A tremor runs through him beneath my touch, his eyes falling shut and his grip pulling me closer. My breathing picks up as my chest threatens to burst from within me.

  He does remember. Maybe deep down, he’ll always remember.

  I lean forward, standing on my tiptoes and lifting my chin. “Kiss me.”

  His eyes are still closed when I softly press my lips to his. A shudder slides over him again, muscles rippling as he fights not to kiss me back. I close the small gap between us and wrap my arms around his neck, allowing the curves of my breasts to press against his hard chest, allowing the slight trembles of his body to shake my own. When I run the tip of my tongue over his lips, he breaks.

  Strong arms pull me tight as his lips part for me, and he quickly takes over, a rough groan rumbling through him and making me moan in response. He tilts his head, his tongue sparring dangerously with mine, and he gives my lip a bite that tells me he’s not pleased. But the way his fingers dig into my hips argue that, and soon his tongue is wandering to my neck and my head’s falling back.

  A small voice in the back of my mind orders me to stop. This is not what you’re here for, she reminds me. You’re running out of time.

  I whimper at the thought, but I know what must be done.

  My head snaps up, and I guide his lips back to mine. My eyes are wide as I watch him lose himself in devouring me, and a tear slowly slides down my cheek. Our tongues still tangled together, I latch onto the strong and steady sound of my heart’s beat. The beat that belongs to him. Then I do it. I breathe. Straight into his mouth. I seal my lips to his, pouring my oxygen, my soul, the very life of me, into his lungs.

  The way he once did for me.

  His kiss softens, eyes drifting open. They’re dazed and heavy, confusion taking over. I don’t stop. I breathe and breathe, giving all of myself to him. I wonder if he feels it the way I did; a strong beat playing in his chest and a flutter running down his spine. Can he feel the life pouring through him?

  As though in answer, something fierce flashes in his gaze, and he tears his lips away from mine, releasing me from his grip and stumbling back a step, toward the road that’s blurred behind him. “What . . .” His breathing is hard, uneven as he takes a look around like he’s seeing the world for the first time. “What did you do, Lou?” It’s a growl, angry and confused all at once.

  More tears spill as I realize it’s working. It’s really working. He’ll finally have his life back. I try to smile, but I know it must look lost and strange.

  Because that’s how I feel as the darkness around me seeps into my skin in a whole new way. The ice is no longer ice, but prickling needles pounding into my skin, my soul, one after the other. I cough, the oxygen in my lungs evolving into something dry and scratchy, and this time it’s me who takes a step back.

  Closer to the darkness. Further from him.

  “No.” His hands are in his hair. His jaw is tight, body rigid, his eyes greener than I’ve ever seen them in my life. “No, no, no. Dammit, Lou! What the hell did you do!”

  My voice is steady when I answer, no trace of regret because there is none to be found in my heart. “You saved me once, remember?” I whisper. “Now I’ve saved you.”

  His head is shaking. “You weren’t meant to save me, Lou. You’re meant to live your life. A full—” He stops, his face twisting for a second as his fingers come up to rub his chest. He tries again. “A full . . . a long—”

  He cries out, dropping to his knees with a hand clutching his chest, and a pang of fear ripples through me.

  “Enzo?” I rush forward, but the darkness only stretches before me. It’s becoming a thick cloud of smoke, slowly inching up from the ground like it’s building a wall between us. I try again, but I can’t get through. The pull, the tug to the other world, it holds me back like firm hands planted on my shoulders.

  Panic floods me, my mind spinning so fast it makes my vision blur. I can’t go to him. Can’t help him. I’m officially a slave to the darkness, the growing haze before me the equivalent of steel bars, my prison. As I squint through the fog to find him heaving, the cold seed of fear in my stomach shoots through my nerves until my entire body is tight with it.

  “Enzo!” Talk to me. I need to know what’s happening. I need you to be okay. It isn’t until he brings his gaze to mine, full of pain and anguish, that I see it.

  The red.

  So much red.

  Seeping out from beneath the hand that squeezes his chest. Sliding over his fingers, clinging to his T-shirt. It’s a gash. A hole. A wound. Just like the day of his car accident. The day he was on the brink of death.

  Oh god. Enzo.

  I did this to him. Singlehandedly.

  And now, all I can do is watch him die.

  Chapter 51

  It’s quiet here. So quiet. Calm. Empty, like me. Like we’re meant to be. I can hardly feel the fiery layer beneath my skin anymore. This is good. I’m not meant to feel.

  Feel.

  Feel.

  What is it about that word, nagging at me. I slap it away with my mind, but it only swims back. Feel something. It’s a small voice from deep within me, when all I want is silence.

  Remember.

  Remember.

  I shake my head, blocking my ears with my hands. This isn’t right. It isn’t right. The sounds grate at me, scratching my brain relentlessly until I finally cave and let it in. And when I do, I stop hearing anything at all. Instead, I see. And all I see is red. No, no. Red doesn’t belong here. Not in so much black. But it is here. So much red. It shakes. A tremble, a jolt. I come to realize there’s more than just the red. There’s the hand it oozes onto. The shirt it slowly soaks.

  Something stirs in my gut, pulling against me. It’s heavy and commanding and forces me to look deeper into my mind. So I do. What I find is a head of dark hair as a man stares down at the wound. He’s on the ground, hunched over.

  Should I know this person?

  I concentrate harder, getting the image to look up, lift his head. Then I know. I know that face. Those eyes. The tick of that jaw.

  The pain. Enzo. Enzo was in pain. He was in trouble.

  My hands drop from my ears, my head whipping side to side. Searching for a way out. It’s all black, everywhere I turn. Up, down, left, right. Endless, eternal black.

  No. I can’t be here.

  I need to go back.

  I need to fight.

  The numbness tries to soothe my heart, trick me into complacency, but I refuse. When it claws at my throat, I claw right back. When it snakes around my skin, I stand tall and think only of him. The man who makes me feel everything the numbness is against. I will not forget again. I cannot forget again. And so I do the only thing I can do. I command my legs to function.

  And I run.

  I run, then I yell. The sound roars deep from within my throat, tendons straining against my neck as I unleash the blistering rage and heartbreak boiling inside me. Determined to disrupt the delicate shell around me until it cracks. I don’t know where it comes from, the wild urge to tear the silence to shreds. I pick it apart, daring it to shut me up. Screaming so hard my voice breaks.

  “You can’t have me!” There’s no response, not even an echo. But the incredible fire coursing through me doesn’t waver as I scream. As I cry. As I finally release the fury of pent up emotions banging against my chest. As I defy the very rules of this world. I’m overcome with a strength I’ve never known. “You wil
l never have me,” I whisper.

  I will break all of its rules if I have to, because my strength is powered by the strongest combining forces of all. Love and fear.

  I close my eyes, rejecting the darkness entirely. And I remember. I remember the shape of his lips. I remember the spark in his eyes when he looks at me. The dimple when he smiles. The deep symphony of his laugh. I remember how it feels, his lips on mine. I remember what it’s like to breathe him in.

  My knees buckle, and I hit the ground, letting out a yelp at the fresh scrape on my hand. What the hell? I look below me and see the dirt. Then I glance up and see the trees. The sky. Feel the air fill my lungs.

  Tears sting my eyes. I made it. I’m here.

  I shoot to my feet, steadying myself against a tree until I stop swaying. Enzo. I need to find him.

  Chapter 52

  Four Days Later…

  My hands shake, legs bouncing in my seat, teetering the steaming coffee I hold above my lap. Somehow, I’m still here. Somehow, I’m still alive. Somehow, my heart beats again.

  Part of me wants to know why. How it’s even possible. Learn the truth about what’s happening to me, if only to ease the fear that consumes me every night before I fall asleep. The fear that reminds me I’m only part of a glitch. The fear that tells me I’m not supposed to be here, and I might not be when the sun rises.

  But another, larger part takes comfort in not knowing. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe the answers to all my questions end in pain, death, or misery. Or somewhere in between. They say ignorance is bliss, and right now, I’m tempted to believe them.

  I scan the waiting room, taking in the empty chairs. It’s three in the morning, and I’m not allowed to be here. But this doctor happens to be the same as Mr. Blackwood’s was, and she took pity on me. It’s been four days since Enzo’s surgery. Three days since he slipped into a coma. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this place until he wakes up.

  And he has to wake up. He has to. Because we can’t have gone through all that we have just to wind up losing each other.

  “Lou?” I jolt at the unexpected sound, almost knocking the coffee to the ground. Again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I set the cup down and look up at the doctor, the faint lines around her eyes creased as she gazes down at me.

  “You’re still here,” I murmur, my exhaustion making it extra challenging to speak in full sentences. “I mean, I thought you left hours ago.”

  She nods. “I did. Then I received an important call and decided to come see for myself.”

  A surge of hope bubbles up, but I quickly shove it back down. What if it’s not what I think? What if it’s worse? “Wh-what? What is it?”

  A small smile lifts her lips, and that’s it. That’s all the answer I need. I’m out of my chair, breaking out in strange goosebumps as waves of anticipation stir in the pit of my stomach.

  Her hand comes up around my arm. “Hold on, now. Yes, I’m very happy to inform you he’s up. But there is something you should know.”

  I don’t care. Enzo is here. With me. In my world. Our world. And now, he’s awake. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. We’ll deal with it together. “Okay, but can I see him?”

  Her lips purse. “You may, but—”

  I’m already swinging around and taking a step toward his room when her grip stops me. “Lou, wait. Please. I need you to understand something before you go in there.”

  I turn back to her, taking in the serious lines of her expression. A frown pulls my lips down. “I’m listening.”

  She lets out a breath, then closes her eyes briefly before beginning. “A coma can really take its toll on a person, both mentally and physically. Combine that with severe trauma, and, well, it’s a lot for someone to deal with. It can be difficult to adjust.”

  Yes, I’m aware. This is not groundbreaking stuff. “And?”

  “And, in this case . . . in this case, dear, he may not remember much at all.”

  The way my stomach drops, I’m certain an anchor is in there, weighing it down. “You’re talking about amnesia.”

  Another nod. “I am, yes. Now, we did try speaking to him and he was able to tell us some things. However . . .”

  She continues talking, but I may as well be submerged in a tank of water. The sound of her voice drowns out in the distance, unclear and muddled as I shake my head. No. He remembers me. He has to. If he could hold onto me during all that time in the void, he can sure as hell hold onto me during a coma. Can’t he? An uneasiness sits in my gut, forcing me to face the very real possibility that I will walk into that room, look him dead in the eye, and he’ll have no idea who I am.

  “Lou?”

  Her voice comes back clearer as my mind gradually returns to the waiting room. “Sorry. Yes?”

  “I asked if you think you’re ready to see him now.”

  I wipe my hands on my jeans, suddenly not sure how to answer.

  “Are you all right? We can always do this another time. There’s no need to rush this sort of—”

  “No, no. I’m ready.” Of course I’m ready. I’ve been dreaming of this day for too long. The day we’d meet in this world with both our hearts beating. “Please. I-I’d like to see him now.”

  She hesitates, but turns and gestures for me to follow. I already know where his room is, of course, but I trail behind her anyway, stopping when she stops. She gives a light rap on the door, then pokes her head inside. I don’t hear what she says, but the next thing I know, she’s holding the door wide open and stepping aside, and I don’t know how to breathe. Don’t know how to move. How to think. How to feel.

  “Lou, it’s okay,” she says gently. “You can go on in now.”

  I let out a quivering breath, and I nod.

  It’s time. It’s finally time.

  I don’t even feel my legs move when I take the first step, but then I’m in the room and the door clicks behind me.

  And it’s just me. And him.

  I stay frozen in place by the door, my heart thumping against my chest as I rake my eyes over his wounds, not yet ready to meet his gaze. Not yet ready to discover the blank stare as he fails to recognize me. The hospital blanket is folded over, covering everything below his hips. His upper half is bare, revealing the hard lines of his body I’ve memorized, the scars I’ve kissed, and a wide, white bandage I’ve never seen that’s wrapped around his chest. I watch it rise and fall with his slow, measured breaths, and when the steady beeps from the heart monitor make their way to my ears, I squeeze my eyes shut and choke out a quiet sob.

  He’s really here. He’s alive. Away from suffering, and able to create a new life.

  The knowledge ignites a gentle glow within my heart, thawing the icy nerves and repairing them with the soothing balm of relief. I shake my head at myself, feeling the pure joy and love warm my soul. I’m so happy for him it hurts, the feeling expanding inside of me so thoroughly I’m about to burst. The truth is, even if he doesn’t remember me, even if he asks me to turn around and leave, I will never regret any of it. Because he got his life back, and in the process, he showed me what it means to love and be loved in ways I never knew possible.

  Finally, I open my mouth and suck in a lungful of air. Then I pull back my tears, open my eyes, and place one foot in front of the other. I keep my chin up as I reach the bed, determined not to ruin this beautiful day for him. Then I look him in the eye.

  The first thing I take in is the sea of green. Not a hint of grey, black, or any shades in between to muddle the iris. Just the deepest hues of green I’ve ever laid eyes on, shadowed beneath thick, dark lashes, and for a moment, I can’t look away. My gaze drops to his throat as he swallows, and I notice as the rise and fall of his chest becomes a little faster, a little harder. When his warm hand wraps around mine, I go still, breath catching and eyes closing as I realize what it means.

  “Lou.” Even as his voice breaks, strained, the sound is just as addictive as ever. Low and rough in all
the right places, it glides over my skin like a warm glove.

  “I-is this real?” I whisper, a fresh tear spilling over my sealed lashes.

  “You tell me.” He lifts my hand, slowly bringing it higher, and the soft brush of his lips against my skin sends a shiver straight to my toes. “Does this feel real?”

  When he tugs me gently toward him, my eyes open and I’m suddenly in the bed right beside him. He grips my waist with one strong hand until my hips are rubbing against his, and another thick swallow passes through his throat at the contact. “How about this?”

  My heart pounds so rapidly I’m certain it’s going to break some sort of record. Then his fingers are curling around the nape of my neck, and he’s slowly pulling my face closer to his. And closer, until our lips almost touch. When I exhale, he breathes it in. He’s staring at my mouth, his eyes darkening with something hungry and tender all at once, and it sends my pulse into overdrive. “And this, Lou. Does this feel real?”

  Finally, I whisper, “Yes,” through another sob, and he closes his eyes tightly, a pained look crossing over his expression.

  “Thank fucking god,” he breathes, his breath ragged, “because I’m never walking away from you again.”

  I laugh out a strangled cry, unable to believe I’m actually hearing those words from him, and he closes the gap between us, crushing my lips with his. His mouth is demanding, exploring like he’s tasting me for the very first time. Every movement of his tongue tangling with mine, every graze of teeth as he nips—he’s claiming me in a way I’ve never experienced. Raw, hungry, and rippling with power, it shoots electric tingles down my back, snaking around my body and pooling between my thighs.

  Lips still locked on mine, his fingers wrap around my own, holding them with the kind of tenderness that makes me squeeze my eyes tight. I’m scared that if I open them, I’ll find it’s all been a dream, and it will break me into a million pieces.