Beyond His Savior's Touch

ling pressure that made me gasp. I curled into a ball, my hand

sleep so light it was barely rest.

a cool cloth for my forehead and a glass of water, his hands gentle as he helped

st breathe through i

esence a solid, unwavering comfort. For a moment, watching him, I could almost forget the

htstand, buzzed. A single, insis

7 a

was usually sedated or sleeping, when he would slip out to the guesthouse

his jaw tightening. He

, his face a mask of

I whispered, c

uzzed again

' ll be right back," he whispered. "J

osing the door softly behind him.

ot well." A pause. "No, it' s not an excuse! Wha

tective. But it was all part of the act. He was angr

face composed. He tucked me back into bed

e controls for the cultures," he lied,

"Go to sleep, my love.

to a slow, steady rhythm. I feigned sleep, a

hen, satisfied I was asleep, he slippe

pen. The room fel

p. A new messa

t this time.

ilmed in secret. It was from her point of view. She was in the guesth

ng. "You can' t call me like that. What i

oed from behind the camera. "And I

face was a mixture of exhaustion

aw her hand reach out and touch his chest. "She' s si

look of anguish on his face. "Just for to

The video ended with the sound

A strangled sob escaped my lips, and I pr

mpared to the agony in my chest. I

orting me, lying to my face, he had walked a hundr

ientist and the pathetic, weak man. How could he be both? Ho

loop in my mind. The sound of his shirt hittin

t love that had survived so much, finally died

lve. And the baby, kicking softly inside