Numb

Chapter Two: I'm Okay

*** Asil's POV ***

***Trigger Warning - Mention of s****l abuse & suicide***

It was hard to tell if I had died or was still alive. Too scared to open my eyes, I kept them closed and felt a heaviness take over my body. When I eventually summoned the courage to look around, I found myself in a dimly lit room with a machine beeping in the background. The scene made no sense. No one would have been able to track me down after I ran into the woods, not that anyone would've cared to search for me anyway. I didn't have any family where I lived.

I had been adopted, but my family abandoned me after I told them about the molestation I endured at the hands of my adoptive father. According to them, it was all because of me, since they thought I was always 's****l' due to being raped as a toddler. How could someone blame a child for something an adult did? So I moved away as far as possible to start over and break free from that terrible part of my life. I went on a self-destruction course working in the s*x industry hoping that someone would just end it all and free me from this prison of my thoughts. In the end, however, nothing changed except for the depths of my self-hatred and shame.

Living in a state of isolation was my unfortunate reality, as I could never seem to fit in. My lack of connection to the world was due only to my "father," who kept me sheltered from the rest of the world and the realities that came with it. He treated me like his possession, prohibiting me from establishing relationships or gaining any knowledge that I could use later down the road to be a productive member of society.

In the past, when I got into romantic relationships, I thought that being scolded, having decisions dictated to me, and receiving orders about how to think and act was just part of life. Now I understand it was domestic abuse. Still, I kept getting into these kinds of relationships. This one felt different, though. Things were good in the beginning but slowly deteriorated until there was nothing left that could patch up the fissure that had formed in my heart and soul. It felt as if I wasn't meant to be in this world, but rather just exist in a state of suffering - either at the hands of others or my foolishness.

My eyes started to fill with tears, and no matter how hard I tried to stop them, they kept coming. Sadness twisted into anger that boiled up from within my chest and I fought to sit upright in the bed. The beeping of the machines around me was giving me a pounding headache.

I noticed the beeping was coming from the machine that connected me to an IV.

I was filled with a deep, boiling rage for the person who had kept me alive. I wished that I did not have to bear the burden of these memories and emotions, particularly those concerning the man I loved and his affair with another woman.

A chill ran down my entire body as I heard a deep, throaty voice say, "You're awake. Good."

My eyes furiously roamed the room to find the source of the voice. I tried to focus on my vision but was having trouble.

"Good? How is this good?! Was it you who brought me here?" I growled, attempting to tug out the IV.

Strong, coarse hands grasped my wrists to stop me from yanking out the IV. The soft, mesmerizing voice spoke with a gentle plea, "Take a deep breath and relax little one."

I was boiling with rage, unsure of what made me angrier–still being alive, the person who prevented me from committing suicide, or the way his soothing voice and touch melted away my fury.

I attempted to pull away from his warm embrace, yelling "Don't touch me!"

"If I can't trust you to keep your hands off of your IV, then I will have to hold you myself. Do I have your promise that you'll leave it be?"

"Whatever. Just don't touch me!"

He withdrew his hands, and I tensed up, my skin crawling at the thought of all who had laid their hands on me throughout my life. Then, my mind rushed to him and his betrayal.

"It wasn't a mistake, it was a f*****g choice," I whispered through gritted teeth squeezing my eyes so the tears would stop.

"What?" the man in the room uttered.

"Nothing. I just want to be alone," I replied.

"I can't do that," he responded, his voice gentle and soothing. "I found you with a gun in your mouth and my nurses told me about the large amount of pills you had ingested. I don't know what happened, but there is no need for you to end your life. Someone has to make sure you are all right."

I collapsed back onto my pillow, trying to stifle a sob that was surging up my throat. I heard him pause before he spoke again.

"If you want to cry, let it all out. If you need someone, I'm here for you – if

that's what you want."

The familiar words seemed to trigger something in me: I wanted someone to help me through the pain and make it go away, but a greater part of me wanted nothing and no one. There was a war raging inside of me.

"I'm okay," I forced out in a strangled voice, desperately trying to hold back the tears. I angrily wiped away my eyes, feeling the heat of my skin from rubbing too hard.

"No, you're not. But you will be in time," the voice said softly.

I gave a hollow laugh before my emotions broke through and spilled out like a tidal wave. The whole room filled with the sound of my crying. My anger had changed into hurt before it shifted back again to anger.

The stranger stayed with me the whole time I wept until all my tears had dried up. I must have eventually fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again he was still there, fast asleep in his chair. His figure was far bigger than the chair he sat on, towering at more than six feet tall. His physique was powerfully built and tattoos sprawled across his fair skin and gauges in his ears. His hair glittered a glossy black color - short on the sides and longer on top. He wore a light grey hoodie with blue jeans, and despite his eyes being closed, he still looked incredibly attractive.

I gulped, feeling mortified that I had exposed so much of my distress in front of the man who willingly stuck with me. I heard footsteps near me, the curtain was pulled back, and an older nurse wearing black scrubs and a mild smile appeared.

"It's about time he got some sleep," she commented as she glanced over at him. Then she stepped towards me, taking her stethoscope off her shoulder and placing it in her ears before going on to check my heart rate and breathing. "He hasn't left your side since he brought you here."

As she went to check my heart rate and other vitals, I tensed up slightly. She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

"No one here is out to hurt you, especially not with Gabriel present," she said gently. "Just relax and let me take your readings: you're lucky to have survived."

I simply nodded my head and stayed still while she examined me. Was I really lucky?