Capítulo 20: A Desperate Calm
Closer to him, the scent of blood was much stronger, invading her nose with the added scent of seawater, smoke, and cold country air. Celeste held on to him, surprised by how heavy he was despite his lean body.
She rubbed his back, whispering, "What happened to you?"
Avond's words came out slurred again as he tried to reassure her. "I'm fine… I… I… uh…" Avond continued his heavy, ragged breathing and it alarmed her. It Sent her heart racing.
"You're going to be fine. Did you fall off the bike? Did you hit your head?" Celeste asked, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. Avond replied, though his voice was strained with pain.
"No… no, I didn't, I…"
"Do you think you can stand?" Celeste asked, her arms firm around his body.
"I can… I… I can, just please, first can you… get me some medication? Feels like… my head's splitting in two." Avonds words ended with a soft whimper that sent her into a panic and motion.
Celeste gently placed Avond on the floor, putting his head under a winter jacket she pulled from the hanger above them. She then stripped off her T-shirt, pressing it against the open wound at the side of his head with enough pressure.
Celeste spoke gently, "Can you please tell me if your vision is blurred?"
"Uh… uhm… yes."
"Alright, did you hit your head?" she asked again.
"No… migraine," Avond whispered, his body relaxing beneath her. Celeste took his hand, placing it on his wound, and then started to stand, her heart betraying the calm of her face and voice.
"Do you feel cold?" Celeste asked, but before she could hear the answer, she was running towards his room, finding the door to his private bathroom open with its light still on.
She slammed the door to the drug cabinet open, finding many bottles, but among them was a strip of strong painkillers.
Before she knew it, she was back at the door, one hand snatching the crumpled duvet off his double bed. She turned off the entryway lights, engulfing Avond in darkness as she threw the duvet over him, then went on to fetch some water.
"Avond… Avond…" Celeste whispered, waking him gently. He was weak from blood loss and pain. She could feel the last bit of power that had brought him back leave his body. Gently, Celeste placed her arm under his neck, careful to lift his shoulder so he could take the water. But then she realized the tablet was far too large for him to swallow in this condition.
"Okay… alright… I'll crush it with a spoon," Celeste said, more to herself than to Avond. The panic she had felt before settled into a flurry of anxiety and worry. She carefully let Avond lie on the floor, once again leaving him to grab two spoons, which she used to crush the tablet into powder. She placed it nicely on the spoon, then returned to help him drink.
To Celeste's dismay, Avond did not swallow. It flowed out of the corners of his mouth. She watched him lying there, his face contorted in agony. His eyes remained stubbornly shut, as if opening them would unleash a fresh wave of torment. Each shallow breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling unevenly. She could see the muscles in his jaw twitch, his teeth clenched so tightly that even the effort to speak seemed too much. Her heart sank as his hand reached up, trembling, to touch the wound at his temple, but it fell back limply, as if even that simple action was more than he could bear.
Celeste bit her lip, her gaze darting from the painkiller in her hand to Avond's tightly clenched jaw. Desperation tightened her chest; she had to get the medicine into him somehow.
With shaking hands, Celeste leaned over Avond and took the pill into her mouth, letting it rest on her tongue as she added a sip of water. Gently, she cradled his head in her hand, lifting him slightly. Her lips hovered
over his, and she whispered, "Avond, I'm sorry," before pressing her mouth to his. She let the water and pill flow between their lips, hoping the warmth of her breath would coax him to swallow. As she felt him stir weakly beneath her touch, she urged him on with quiet, frantic words, "Please, Avond… you need this."
Afterward, Celeste watched for any sign that he'd taken the medicine. For a moment, nothing happened, and a cold dread gripped her. Then, she felt a faint movement in his throat—a small, strained gulp. Celeste kept her hand cradled around his head, waiting and saw his lips part slightly as he drew a deeper breath.
The room fell into a silence she had never experienced before. A heaviness lingered in her heart, seeming to take over the apartment. Celeste wanted to know immediately whether he was alright, but she knew it was an unrealistic expectation. All they could do now was sleep away the pain.
If only she were strong enough, she would carry him to his bed so that he could rest comfortably. But for now, all she could do was put some pillows and a thicker blanket to make his sleep warmer.
In the silence that followed, everything she did seemed to make noises that were too loud for her ears. She grabbed a first aid box and started to clean his wound and neck of dried and wet stains.
Avond was so far gone, that he did not even move when she touched the tender flesh of his wound. By the end of it, her own hands were stained, and she placed them on his cheek. "You're going to be alright. You're going to be fine," she said, more for her own reassurance than his.
Despite it being in the middle of the day, Celeste felt a sudden fatigue that made her head dizzy. She looked down and realized she was wearing a bra only, remembering she had pulled off her shirt a moment ago.
In her mind, all sorts of scenarios came into play. From a simple accident to the most ridiculous of a sudden ambush. What could have caused a cut like that? And without any other wound, bruises, or scrapes? Perhaps he was in a fight and had won, although still with a deep cut.
Celeste felt a chill at the thought of her possible absence. What would he do if she was not there? Would he have been alright? Would he survive if no one fixed that cut on his temple? She let out a slow breath as she closed all the curtains, blocking away all the light from coming in. It was dark and the sofa looked inviting.
But how could she sleep in a nice spot when Avond was lying on the cold floor? Celeste thought, realizing even if she did choose to sleep on the sofa she wouldn't have been able to sleep in peace.
After some consideration, Celeste went and grabbed a dirty T-shirt from the laundry basket. The one Avond had left under the dining table. It was the only one she could use considering she had only packed one T-shirt with her in her sudden departure.
Celeste grabbed a thin folded blanket from the sofa and then placed it beside Avond who snored lightly. Her head became heavy, realizing she had not had a good night's rest the past two days. Soon the shock of the situation started to wear off.
After a moment of silence, Celeste finally let her emotions loose and then started crying.
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