My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,79
illuminated Flame who was still sleeping soundly in bed. It had been two days since he had been returned to me. Two days since Rider and Bella came and attended to his wounds. Rider had given Flame fluids via an IV, providing him with sustenance to make him strong. Flame had to be strong. He needed to be ready to fight from the moment he opened his eyes.
Alone in our cabin, I had washed Flame. With a washcloth and soapy water, I had taken care to wipe away the remaining blood from Flame’s body. Disposed his soiled clothes, dressed him in sleep pants, and deliberately kept his injured torso bare. I had shampooed his hair, taking time to comb through the long black strands. It had grown so long. I had taken care of my husband. And with every action, I found myself praying.
When I left The Order, God had no place in my life. But seeing Flame’s peaceful face as he slumbered, I knew I wanted the peaceful rest to remain. I imagined what it would be like for Flame to awake and not feel the rush of heat in his blood. Not be reminded of his abusive past by the smallest and most innocent-looking triggers. I rested my hand on my bump. I really wanted Flame to want his baby with the same desperate need as me. I wanted him to want to be a papa without the fear that he would hurt our baby, or worse to be the reason our baby would not survive.
Lying here now, on our bed, I let my fingertips gently explore his wounds. They were beginning to heal. I had made sure I kept them clean. My brow furrowed when I ran my fingertip over the snakebite on his right pectoral muscle. The bumps were red and inflamed. I did not want to, but the sight made me think of Flame as a young boy, scared of the world and his place on it. A world that was confusing to him, but not to others. A world where he wanted to make a connection with other children—to play and to laugh, but the know-how was a mystery to him. I swallowed back the gutting lump in my throat. I gently drifted the back of my hand over his cheek, the hair from his beard soft to the touch. His beard was now washed free of blood and he no longer felt the pain from being strapped tightly to a tree.
Sometimes I wished I could be Flame for a day, simply to understand what the world revealed itself to him. And to measure how different it was to the way it was revealed to me. I wished I could understand how the flames in his blood made him feel. How it managed to wear him down, minute by minute, until his only reprieve was to cut his skin and feel his blood spill.
I bit my lip when it began to tremble. I refused to shed anymore tears. I had to be strong for us both. I could not predict what would greet me when Flame opened his eyes. I had no idea if he would know me. I had no means of knowing if internal flames would be scalding his flesh, forcing him to fight to be free of them. Whatever happened, I would be here and fight beside him.
Flame inhaled deeply. I tensed, but I let myself relax when he exhaled, still in a deep sleep. My heart raced slightly at this false alarm. I held Flame’s hand and brought his fingers to my lips, kissing each in turn. I had once asked Rider what he believed was wrong with Flame. Why Flame saw the world in a different light. Being raised in The Order, anyone who was different or did not toe the line of Prophet David vanished from everyday life. To this day, I was unsure where most people had been taken. There were mysteries in my previous life that I knew to which I would never find the answer. But Rider surprised me, he had an answer regarding Flame.
Rider told me it was purely his observation. However, when I pushed, he explained to me why Flame saw the world the way he did, why certain actions of his were amplified where others were not. He explained why Flame could not maintain eye contact with people. Rider told me it was a rare occurrence that Flame could hold my gaze.