“I’m not sleeping!” He turned to face Anthony.
“Yes, you are, or I can lock you up. I will not have you arguing with me on this, either. You are close enough to the gates to hear when the attack begins. Sleep will help you recover. You didn’t get any while chained to the wall of that cave, and I don’t expect that we will be getting any once this attack is over.” He stood and gestured for Desmond to lead the way out of the small room.
Marcus huffed in agitation as the men slipped out the door, closing it behind them. He didn’t want to sleep. It was difficult to keep his mind away from that place while he was awake, and with Maximus headed to the outpost, there was too much to do to prepare for the attack. He was exhausted, though, and he knew Anthony could handle the men and the outpost. He just… Marcus swallowed the dread seeping over him. I can’t let him do this to me.
He sighed and laid back down on his stomach. His exhausted body welcomed the reprieve—his wounds still numb and cooled by the salve, his taut muscles finally able to release the constricted tension. Every time his mind would wander back to the cave, he would push it away like he had learned to do as a child. Lock the door, don’t let it in. It can’t hurt you if you don’t let it in.
The glow of the lantern light from behind his lids reminded him too much of the torchlight in the cave. He opened his eyes and found the lantern still sitting on the nightstand. He reached up and turned it down as far as he dared. Complete darkness in the cramped room would have brought him no comfort or rest. He settled down again and the dimness of the light faded to darkness as he closed his eyes. He sighed and let himself relax a little more.
A pair of eyes flashed into his mind; one a crisp, cool blue, the other a soft lavender. He had spent weeks trying to avoid seeing them, trying to forget them. He would do anything to see them now. His chest ached, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He held onto them, despite the pain, and the features around those eyes slowly formed in his mind. Her smooth, pale ivory skin, the curve of her nose, and her full, coral-colored lips framed by locks of dark honey-colored hair freed from her braid. She smiled up at him from his arms as she whispered, “Take me home, Marcus.” The ache seared through his chest with added vigor, but still, he held onto it… to her and let sleep take him.
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