47. Touch Me, Dakota

I wake up to an unusual ticklish sensation tingling in my hand.
I open my eyes and a blurry figure next to me, slowly comes into focus. I see Dakota sitting in front of me, holding a pen and intently drawing on my hand.
Confusion climbs my brows as his unflinched gaze remains focused on my palm while he strokes intricate patterns with precise attention, like he is programming some secret codes.
Suddenly those green eyes meet mine and a smile effortlessly curve his lips. “Hey, there!” He greets, tugging his pen in the breast pocket of his suit.
“How’z my favorite patient doing now?” Playfulness dances in his words, yet he couldn’t conceal the deep concern lacing his voice.
No words come out of me and I lie quietly, feeling the dull ache pulsing throughout my body. Dakota reaches for the wet cloth on my forehead and replaces it with the warmth of his own hand.
But in an instant, he withdraws his hand abruptly, with a sharp yelp of surprise. “Ouch!” he exclaims, frantically fanning his hand as if he just burned himself. “You are so hot!” He complains with a smirk hinting on his lips.
I blink my heavy eyelids at him, unable to get his comical pun against the hefty feeling of sadness. Dakota notices my lack of emotions and his expression softens with understanding.
“Relax!” He reassures me. “Your fever has come down to 37.4 degree Celsius, and so far all your body vitals are within the normal range.”
I stare at him with confusion clouding my mind as he skittishly pokes his finger in my cheek, as if trying to create a dimple.
The contradictory nature of his black and white behaviour puzzle my gray mind. I remain silent, lying still while he affectionately caresses me like a past life lover.
“You are very dangerous, you know?” He whispers, giving a gentle squeeze to my cheek. “Melting hearts with your feverish cheeks and burning hands with your sick hotness.”
Warm tingles scatter everywhere in my body as his finger softly brush against my face, like penning a poem of his unspoken feelings.
Tender emerald eyes penetrate deep within me, seeing me much more than just skin and bones. Like I am made up of art, a masterpiece in the realm of renaissance.
Rough fingers delicately weave through my strands, as if he is combing my hair with his fingers. A strange sensation rumbles through my body at his touch and it some how made me feel intimate.
“I like your black hair.” His finger twists around a loose lock of hair as he whispers to himself, “It brings out the depth in your hazel eyes beautifully and accentuates the natural glow of your skin. I find it far more enchanting than those blue strands you had before.”
He gently pushes the lock of hair behind my ear, all while touching the back of my sensitive earlobe. “You are truly a captivating beauty, Emara.”
I sense a sudden race in my chest. Although, I feel numb to the pain, numb to the pleasure, numb to everything, expect for him. His voice manages to reach the deepest corners of my heart, and his touch still sends electric shivers down my spine.
It’s as if he is immune to the darkness that consumed me, maybe because he was the catalyst that ignited it.
A notification buzzes on his watch, capturing Dakota’s attention and he instantly draws his hand back to read it. “The pizza is here.” He announces and stands up rather impatiently.
“I ordered a spicy peri-peri one, just for my hot firecracker.” He smiles at me while buttoning his suit, and that’s when I notice what he is wearing..
A sleek black suit drapes flawlessly over his broad shoulders, highlighting the strong lines of his physique, and a tie in the center, exuding an aura of profound elegance.
He appears sharp, as if he stepped straight off the runway of an Armani fashion show.
“I’ll be back in a few hours. Till then, the house is all yours.” He informs me with a hint of detachment. “You can watch Netflix and eat your pizza peacefully, I won’t be here to disturb you.” His eyes have a glint of sadness as he whispers the last sentence almost hurtfully.
I feel a thud in my dead chest, and I avert my gaze away from him. The weight of his words settles deep into my heart and I feel a heaviness in my chest, as if it is sinking further inside me, somewhere I can’t even reach.
Dakota retrieves several medicine strips from his pocket and places them carefully on the beside table. Adopting a more authoritative tone, he reminds me. “Don’t forget to take these antibiotics, multivitamins, and a dose of my kiss.” He leans in and pecks his lips gently on my cheek.
Once again, a sweet tingling sensation spreads across my skin, along with the alluring scent of his musky cologne. His lips linger for a moment on my cheek, before he reluctantly pulls away with a deep sigh.
“Eve, continue to monitor her body vitals and send me reports every fifteen minutes. Also remind her about medi..” His voice gradually fades away to a hush as he steps out of the room, leaving behind a bittersweet warmth of his lips on me.
Shortly after, I hear a faint rumble of the car engine, signaling his departure. The sound dissolves into silence which once again envelops me into its tentacles. I lie quietly, for uncountable minutes, staring at the glass window before me.
There is darkness outside, mirroring the same darkness inside me. Yet, unlike the night sky decorated with beautiful twinkling stars, there are no such flickering lights within me to make my darkness look pretty.
It’s all pitch black and empty.
A faint vibration on my wrist serves as a reminder to take my medicine, but as if my consciousness is swallowed, I feel nothing. I feel no joy or my beating heart, it’s like blackness has gripped me from all the sides and I am suffocating under the weight of my sadness.
I try to remember the last time I felt happy, but my mind draws a blank canvas. The colors that once painted my vibrant world have now faded away into dull shades of gray.
There is no happiness in me, every delight feeling has been dried out. The memories of laughter, love and joy seem so distant now that I feel like I am living in an endless cycle of darkness, with no way out.
A tear leaks from my eyes, slipping down my lashes, into the softness of the pillow. Another tear follows the same path and soon, a torrent of tears cascades down my eyes uncontrollably, as if a floodgate has been opened.
My painful cries echo in the room and revert back into my ears as I cry loudly, intensifying the torment. The heaviness of my pain becomes unbearable in my chest, and I break down, holding on to the pillow like it is my heart.
All the hurt, all the humiliation flashes in front of me as I watch myself going through the sheer brutality again. How the little girl in me was used and abused mercilessly for a small mistake committed years ago.
I was just trying to save my brother. I had no intention of sending anybody to jail. I was trying to be being a good sister, I didn’t know I was spoiling his life.
Tears after tears burst from my eyes, and I couldn’t control anything. I feel like I am drowning in my own tears and I don’t know how to reach the surface. I can’t breathe or even look beyond this endless darkness that is coated in front of me.
*I was just being a good sister.*
My own cries amplify the pain which grips my soul and the wounds, both physical and emotional are ripped open once again, gasping me for breath.
As if tears have become my language of pain, I hold on to my chest and cry loudly, letting all the pain pour out of me in the form of tears. Time loses its meaning as minutes turn into hour, but my tears don’t halt.
As if there is no stopping button and I am utterly powerless to control my wrecked emotions.
My trembling hand raises to wipe away the tears clouding my vision, and that’s when I catch a glimpse of faint lines drawn at the center of my palm, forming a mysterious shape.
*What did he draw?*
I stretch my palm in confusion and stare at the intricate sketch. It’s a doodle of two cats sleeping together cutely, while hugging each other.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes on the bedside table and lits up with a notification. Ethan’s name pop on the screen and without a conscious thought, my hand instinctively reaches for the device, eager to read his message.
*‘Whatz up Shrek?’*
Among the dark clouds of raining tears, a smile manages to curve up my lips and I click on call. Ethan picks up on the first ring, his voice breaks through the heavy atmosphere as he speaks,
“Yo! What’s up, ugly? How have you been?”