Page 57 of Freeing Emily
I repeatedly stroke her matted hair and watch as Declan presses his forehead to Paige’s.
After a moment of him sitting like that, he lays Paige on the concrete floor and begins chest compressions.
I don’t register the conversation Rhys and Emily have as I watch him continue to alternate between chest compressions and breathing air into her lungs.
Emily is trembling in my arms, and I pull her in closer to try and warm her. She looks up at me and I clench my jaw at the sight of the swelling and bruises that litter her beautiful face.
“Oh, Emily…” I whisper and her lip trembles. Her eyes are no longer bright. Her skin is ashen. Her cheekbones and shoulder bones are frighteningly prominent.
“She’s alive!” Declan yells and Emily begins to sob into my chest.
“I’m here,Féileacán,I’m here.” I lay my cheek on her head and resume stroking her hair.
Declan stands with Paige’s body in his arms and leaves after ordering Rhys to bring any survivors to his cellar at the estate.
“Let’s get you out of here,” I say to Emily and scoop her into my arms. She’s so alarmingly light that I don’t know how much longer she would have survived before dying from starvation. She leans her head against my shoulder, and I carry her out of the basement.
"How are you feeling today, Emily?” Dr. Morrison asks. Her glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose; hair meticulously styled in a bun at the base of her neck. She watches me with a warm expression, but I don’t feel any warmth from it. I don’tfeelanything but the desire to end it all.
I started therapy after Declan begged me to when Paige and I were rescued. Paige has been making improvements without it and killing those who hurt us, and everyone else seems to think that I am too because of my therapy sessions.
In reality, I’m on the edge of putting a bullet in my head or even finding the closest cliff to jump from.
I straighten my spine and send her a small smile.
“I’m okay,” I lie.
She nods before jotting something down in my file.
“Are you all set to get your new glasses?”
I let out a sigh and nod.
“My eyesight isn’t improving. The doctor recommended I get a seeing-eye dog sooner rather than later.”
She frowns and then a sympathetic smile forms on her lips.
“There’s nothing they can do at this point?”
I shrug. “I think I might see a new doctor to get a second opinion, but I don’t know.”
She nods again and jots something else down.
“And the hallucinations?” she asks quietly.
I twist my fingers in my lap and avoid looking to my right where a woman in tattered clothes has been standing for the last fifteen minutes.
She’s not real. She’s not real. She’s not real.
I can’t control it when my eyes flick in her direction. Dr. Morrison follows my line of sight and then turns back to me. Her eyes soften and she nods with a sad smile.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I sniffle and rub my nose. Dr. Morrison hands me a tissue which I take with a trembling hand.
“Are you still taking your medication as prescribed?”
No.