The Werewolf Bond

Strange

His eyes held mine, the pair of green pools a quiet anchor amidst the storm of betrayal and pain that swelled on the inside my chest. I found his presence inexplicably soothing, very much like a memory of safety I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

The ace of spades twirled between his own fingers, the act a small distraction that was miraculous enough to somehow steady the frantic beeping of the monitor in the presence of the nurse and my cheating husband who wanted me dead. I focused on his slow, deliberate movements, each breath I took syncing with the slow rhythm he set.

“Make sure you keep breathing, just like that,” he said softly, his voice low and warm, like a lullaby. A bit of his breath teased my face—he was that close, and it was a heavenly scent. “You’re stronger than you know.”

The nurse, still hovering nearby, nodded approvingly.

“Did you not say you only found her lying unconscious on the road, Mister?” She asked. “I think you've known her for a long time.”

He smiled, baring a well-set array of white teeth. “Maybe. Or she was only having a panic attack. Something triggered her. You should know that.*

“I do. Just can't figure out why. Whatever it is, I’ll get something to help her relax,” she said, glancing at Ralph before slipping out of the room. I had calmed down now, and when I saw Ralph again, he was standing awkwardly, both his hands shoved into his pockets as his eyes darted between me and the stranger. I could feel his unease, and the guilt radiating off of him like heat from a blaze. He had to know deep in his heart that he didn’t deserve to be here.

Would it ever occur to him that I had seen what was on his phone, though?

He had lied, even while apologizing. He wanted me dead, more than anyone.

And he was my husband.

The strange man now leaned closer, his powerful arms on both sides of me as I lay on the bed, and his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. “You don’t have to carry all that weight, you know. Forget about everything. All of it.”

His words struck an intimate chord, and for a moment I wondered if he knew the very truth I’d just uncovered. I would have believed it if I did not remember that he was only a stranger to me, revealed by the nurse to be the one who had seen me when my husband abandoned me to go be with another woman.

As the tears dried on my face, I searched the depths of his, trying to place him beyond the hazy memory of last night’s delirium, when I had thought him an angel just before everything went black. Before I could speak, however, to question him, Ralph’s voice came from behind:

“You know she has a husband, don't you? And I'm standing right here.”

We both turned at the same time to look at Ralph, who now had a scowl on his face. A feeling—much like regret, cane over me as he stood upright and gestured to Ralph, both his palms spread open in a friendly manner. “She has just had a panic attack. And I brought her here after finding her lying in the rain, Mister. You should be a bit more grateful.”

I watched Ralph's eyes switch to uncertainty. “I—” he began to stutter confusedly.

“Mind if we have a word?” He cut in, his tone polite but firm, leaving no room for refusal. I watched the both of them as Ralph hesitated, and then followed him to the corner of the room. There, they spoke together, their voices hushed but intense as I watched intently. I strained to listen, catching only fragments—something about ‘time’ and ‘choices.’

It did not skip my notice though, that the stranger’s posture was as he was—strange. For the most part he was calm and gentle, but I caught an edge to his movements at the same time. He stood at the same height as Ralph, but managed to remind me of a predator sizing up prey. There was also a dangerous glint in his eyes that made me think that Ralph would have to be loads of insensitive if he did not feel intimidated by this man. I was, lying there.

I watched them suspiciously, my heart now steadied to a calm beat in sink with the beeps of the monitor. Ralph’s face was pale, his hands gesturing nervously as he spoke to him. The stranger, by contrast, was composed, his eyes occasionally flicking toward me, as if he was checking to make sure I was still there.

What were they talking about?

The door swung open, and we all turned about as the nurse reentered, carrying a tray with her. “This should help,” she said, placing it on the small drawer beside my bed. Her hands were quick, and she was soon fumbling with my IV.

I found her boring, and returned my gaze to the two men speaking in the corner. They were still speaking animatedly. Then…

I saw him freeze mid-sentence, his body rigid, and my mouth opened to call for someone to help him. His eyes widened, locking onto mine for a fleeting moment, and I saw them flash weakly before screaming for someone to help him. Then, like a marionette with cut strings, he collapsed to the floor, and remained there, motionless.

The nurse gasped, dropping the syringe she had picked in that time as she rushed to his side while Ralph stumbled back, his face a mask of shock.

“What the hell just happened?” he stammered, his voice cracking.

I sat up despite my weakness and stared at the stranger’s crumpled form as he lay on his back on the cold floor, my chest tightening. Confusion took control of me, and for a while, I was aware of nothing but the voice of the nurse calling for help as the all surprising chaos erupted around us all.

Like the previous night, I wasn't thinking when I pulled the IV off and limped to his side, forgetting my condition. A stretcher was being brought into the room at the same time, and as they put him on it, I peered into his face to check if he was alright.

That was when it happened.

It was fast, and scary too.

Because I saw him open his eyes and yell, his hand closing around my wrist. The veins popped on his face, and his skin was red. But none of these haunted me like the sight of the pair of black eyes I saw in that split moment.

They were a thick black pair, like coal, and without the green.