Precious And Fragile Things

But she would not. If this was a nightmare, she was going to keep swinging and scratching, even though every movement made her cry in pain. Todd, finally, ripped her shirt completely down the front, pushed her onto the bed and yanked at her pants, too.

Gilly kicked out as hard as she could. Maybe Todd dodged it, maybe she missed. She couldn’t tell. All she knew was he grabbed her by the upper arms, fingers digging deep into her flesh, to yank her to her feet.

“I’m trying to help you!” Todd shouted into her face, breath hot and spittle wet on her cheeks. Then, “Oh, shit. Don’t you pass out on me, Gilly.”

But Gilly did.

7

Gilly woke up blind. She lurched upright, clawing at her face. “My eyes!”

Her eyes were merely gummed shut, not blind. Her head ached in the dull, persistent manner that meant no amount of aspirin would stop it. The cold air stung a long gash on her cheek. She put trembling fingers to it and felt that the wound’s curve from the left side of her jaw all the way to the corner of her eye. The crash had taken its share of skin and blood from her face, which felt puffy and tender. Her chest ached from impact with the steering wheel, but, though she sensed bruises, nothing appeared to be broken.

She wore a thick flannel nightgown that had rucked up about her thighs. She hated nightgowns for just that reason. She touched the soft fabric with her jagged, broken fingernails and shivered with distaste.

Gilly tested her limbs one at a time, cataloging aches and pains that ranged from mild to agonizing. Her neck hurt the worst. The pain when she looked to the left was excruciating enough to twist her stomach. The gash on her thigh proved to be shallow but ugly, sore to the touch and still oozing blood and clear fluid.

Still, she was alive. There was that.

A shuffle of feet from the stairs told her he was coming. She spoke before she saw him. “What time is it?”

“Does it matter?”

He’d paused at the top of the stairs but she could see him through the partition. Gilly rubbed at her temples but the throbbing didn’t ease. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

Todd took a few steps closer. “How are you?”

“Bad.”

“You’re a mess,” he said flatly. “You know that?”

Gilly shrugged slightly. It was the greatest motion she could make without ripping herself open. It wasn’t slight enough; she ached and more pain flared.

“The fuck were you thinking?”

She looked at him. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah, well, I want a million dollars.”

Gilly blinked at this attempt at…humor? Sarcasm? He’d said it with a straight face, so she couldn’t be sure. “My head hurts. My neck, too. I think I strained something. And this cut on my leg needs stitches.”

“No shit. You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt worse. That was some crash.” Todd let out a low whistle. “Nice shiner.”

Gilly got out of bed and went to the dirt-encrusted attic window. Her entire left side felt rubbed raw. She winced at every step but could walk.

Everything outside was white. Snow piled against the cabin in drifts that looked nearly waist high. One giant drift reached almost to the windowsill.

No. Oh, no.

“All of this in one night?” she cried, incredulous. She put her hands to the cold glass.

Todd moved to her side. She shrank from him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He leaned forward to peer out the window.

“It snowed all night and all morning, too. It stopped about an hour ago. Sky’s still gray. I don’t think it’s finished yet.”

“The truck?”

He shrugged. “Totaled. Halfway down the mountain, unless that tree broke. Then that bitch is all the way at the bottom, and you can forget about ever getting it back.”

She knew that already but let out a gusting sigh that became a small moan. “Oh, no.”

“Hope you have good insurance.”

Another joke Gilly didn’t find amusing. She pressed her face to the glass, eyes closed, and let out another small, despairing sigh. “Does that even matter now?”

Todd laughed and moved away from her. “Probably not. You shouldn’t have tried to run away. That was stupid.”

Gilly looked at him. She searched his face for sign of a threat, but what would she do even if she saw it? Run? Fight? She’d failed miserably at both.

“You gave me no choice. I have to get home to my kids. My husband’s probably worried sick.”

Todd shrugged. “Neither one of us will be going anywhere until this snow melts. Not without the truck. We’re pretty much fucked.”

Gilly went back to the bed and sat. “I want to go home.”

His face went hard, the soft, dark eyes bitter. He threw her own words back at her. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before.”

Don’t lose it…

But it was already lost.

“Fuck you! You think I don’t know that? Fuck you, Todd!” Gilly shrieked, lurching to her feet with fists flailing.

If she’d aimed for his face she probably wouldn’t have hit him, but one of her wild swings caught him just under the eye. Todd stumbled back, muttering curses. The wound she’d inflicted on him earlier broke open, oozing blood. Gilly stood her ground, fists clenched and teeth chattering, ready to batter him again.

He reached out, quick as a cat, and grabbed her shoulders. He shook her like one does a naughty child, or a pet, each shake emphasizing a word. “That’s twice. Don’t do it again.”

“Or what?” she cried. “What could you possibly do that’s worse than what you’ve already done?”

Todd stared at her with a flat black gaze for too long before answering, “I could do worse.”

He let her go so suddenly she stumbled back, her aggression puffed out like a breath-blown match. They were at a standoff. Gilly rubbed the sore spots his fingers had left, just a few more to add to the plethora already aching all over her.

Without another word, Todd went down the stairs. She went to the window again and stared out at the vast expanse of blankness. Even the trees had been covered in heavy quilts of white, blurring their lines and making them nothing more than vague humps. She wasn’t going anywhere until that melted. Perhaps as early as March or as late as April, but April was three months away.