Love's Arithmetic

XVIII: Desperation

She had never felt so cold in her entire life. Her skin was icy, the water that was dripping through the tree leaves left her feeling as though icicles were forming. Her teeth had started to chatter and she didn't think that she could keep her eyes open for much longer. She had read somewhere that dying from the cold could be peaceful. She had always wanted to go peacefully, not feeling any pain.


Caer certainly felt pain now, her toes were numb, as were her fingers. Her nose was running and every attempt to stem it jarred her frozen fingers, bringing shooting pain up through them. Her legs were red and raw from rubbing against the wet jeans, her thigh throbbing now, but she could still feel the blood coming from the wound. She lacked the coherency to try to put pressure on the wound, leaving her with fewer and fewer blood cells very quickly.


She realized how easily she could die then, all she would have to do is just close her eyes and drift away....


Garrett looked down at the prone form of the woman he loved. She looked so fragile that it made him angry. If he had managed to control his anger, she wouldn't be in the position she was in now. She would still be safe back at the house, warm and cozy in her bed, away from danger.


His initial reaction to her state would have to wait, he knew one thing, and one thing only in those next few moments. Get her warm. It was his mantra as he peeled her clothes off of her damp body. They stuck there as though desperate to cling to her and slowly suck the life out of his love. He was mildly pleased as he undressed her that the bruises he had seen the last time he had undressed her were fading. He remembered the absolute anger he had felt when he had seen her bleeding and bruised there on that bed. It was an image that wouldn't leave his mind, and it still horrified him.


Her pants were the most difficult thing to get off. He realized why when he began to hear a horrible ripping sound and discovered the knife wound on her leg had opened up. Some how, Caer had managed to rip open the stitches and start her leg bleeding again. It would cause trouble for her if he didn't get it taken care of soon. He would call the doctor as soon as possible. Garrett gritted his teeth against the pain he felt for her. Once again the guilt came in a huge wave, flooding him and leaving him no choice but to feel the whole in his stomach with the knowledge that he had caused this.


"Please Caer," He pleaded in her ear, even though she couldn't hear him, "Please don't die. I'm sorry, so, so sorry."


Caer had the odd sense of weightlessness as she drifted back from a world of blackness that she had unintentionally succumbed to. She realized that she was no longer shivering, her body no longer wet, and she was surrounded by warmth, welcomed warmth. Opening her eyes she saw the origination of her weightlessness, she was being carried. Her arms were pinned to her side by the warm wool blanket, and she realized that her she felt the scratch from the wool all over her body. I'm naked! She thought desperately.


With this in her mind she began to struggle, fighting the arms that were holding her, not bothering to look at who it was. Her thoughts all revolved around getting away before he raped her, before she was left abandoned, possibly dead in these woods. "Shhh..." a quiet whisper called next to her ear, "It's fine, you're safe, you're warm, and I'm going to get you home."


Home, that word sounded so wonderful that she could barely contain her joy. She did though, so as not to anger Garrett. He would get upset about something like that, and she didn't want him to be angry with her again.


Garrett couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened to her. He loved her after all, and he had put her in this kind of danger because he was blinded by his own want for gain. Instead, he had almost cost her life. He had brought her to the house and laid her in her bed, only to discover she was still cold. Goosebumps covered her arms, she was pale, and moving his hand down to her neck he found a slow pulse.


Fear shot through him like an arctic wind. He recognized the signs and was terrified. Running to the first aid kit that was always kept in every bathroom, he pulled out a thermometer. He waited anxiously as it measured her temperature. When it finally beeped he looked at it with horror. 93 degrees. Hypothermia had kicked in.