The Space Between

In Between 2

In Between

I drifted in and out all day. We were only served two meals here, so it must be night because they brought me soup and bread. This time, the bread was untoasted, and I wished they’d refrain from toasting it in the mornings. It was much easier to eat this way. I ate the soup, which was mostly just broth and some floppy vegetables and a few strings of some meat product but was easier to eat than breakfast. I closed my eyes again after eating and when I opened them, a pill and glass of water was sitting on the table next to my bed again. Usually, by this part of the day, my brain was foggy, and I couldn’t think, but today, I was a bit clearer.  

I didn’t want to take this pill, either.

But how was I going to hide it?

I sat up and held the pill in my hand like I had this morning, pretending to swallow it while gulping down the water. I could feel my body suck in every bit of moisture and nutrients. Usually, I ended up vomiting at some point when I tried to eat but today, I struggled, and succeeded, in keeping it all down.

Since my head was a lot clearer than it had been in a long time, I took this opportunity to lay back and listen to the building around me. It wasn’t as quiet as I seemed to remember it and from somewhere down the hall, I heard a woman screaming in agony. In that moment, I remembered being the exact same way when I first arrived here. How long had I been here?

I must have fallen asleep again because when I woke up, I found myself standing in a different room. Where was I?

Was this a different realm?

I heard a deep sigh in front of me and took cautious steps towards the sound. It looked like a large couch, and I reached out my hand to feel cool leather. I hadn’t felt anything like that in a long time, so I savored it, running my fingertips over the surface. It was dark and quiet here. It had been so long since I’d been able to enjoy the darkness, there was always a light on where I was. I had no window so the only way I knew it was morning or night was when they brought a meal. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and stopped because I couldn’t believe what I smelled.

It was earthy and deep.

It was nighttime and promises.

It was freedom.

It was him.

I opened my other hand, surprised to hear the pill I’d hidden in my palm drop on the floor and roll under the couch. My eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that I could see his head a few inches from my hand. I was standing behind him and he was sitting on the couch, breathing deeply, most likely asleep. I couldn’t resist reaching out my hand and touching his hair, as light as a whisper. I wanted to run my fingers through it, but I was afraid to wake him up.

“I must be dreaming.”

His voice caught me off guard and I let out a little squeak. I’d been working with my vocal cords off and on today but hadn’t gotten very far. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to speak my name yet.

“Just so you know, I’m not going to open my eyes in case I am dreaming.”

I swallowed then, took a tiny step closer, and started running my fingers through his hair. It was so soft and silky, like his voice. He was leaning back on it, so I didn’t know how long it was, but the top part fell over his forehead. I heard him give another deep sigh.

“Are you a succubus after all?”

My fingers were on his forehead then, brushing the hair aside so I could feel his skin. His brow was furrowed, and I ran my fingertips over each line, until they smoothed out. I dared run a finger over each eyebrow, feeling the shape of them, wondering what color his eyes were, what he looked like. What his lips felt like. I wanted to know, but I was afraid to touch them. Then, I realized he’d asked me a question and I tried to answer.

“No,”

I heard myself say the word and even though it came out as almost less than a whisper, I know he heard it. He reached up and gently placed his fingers around my wrist, leaving space for me to pull out of his grasp if I wanted. His head went back at the same time he pulled my hand down before placing a kiss on the inside of my wrist, just above his fingers.

“I thought about you all day.”

He had? My wrist was still in his grasp, and he started rubbing my fingers against his lip, as if he’d heard my silent want. I felt his breath run across my knuckles as he sighed, like a caress and my fingers curled involuntarily.

“I’m not even sure you’re real at this point.”

He pressed my hand flat against his cheek. I could feel the stubble of his beard, just below the surface of his skin. My thumb made a slight arch over his cheekbone, and I felt the corner of his eye.

I knew I was starting to tire; it was still too hard for me to hold this astral plane for long. I needed to get stronger before I came back. I wanted to spend all my time with him. My hand began to seem less solid in his own. Before I completely faded away, I bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead, that contact with him the last memory I took with me before opening my eyes back in my prison.