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The lights were bright. Too bright. And fuzzy. The world kept shifting between dark and light; focused and blurred. Her shoulders burned and her hands were numb - the zipties around her wrists too tight. Her ankles itched and throbbed from the rough rope and the chair legs they were tied to. She didn’t know how long she’d been there.
Long enough to start to lose hope.
Suddenly, loud noises. Shouting. Slamming doors. Loud pops and cracks. Close, but sounding far. All sounds echoed and directionless.
Was it help? Was help coming?
She swallowed. Her epiglottis bobbed painfully in her throat.
“He…,” she tried once, the words sticking. “He..here!” she cried weakly. “I’m here!” She managed at a louder volume. “Here…,” she said again, trailing off. “Please…,” she whispered.
All at once, the door to the room burst open with a thunderous crash. She winced and barely stopped herself from screaming. Someone was in her face, but she couldn’t see them. They were all colors and shapes. No form. Nothing was clear.
Had she been there (wherever ‘there’ was) for so long that she’d forgotten what faces looked like?
She squeezed her eyes shut, and flinched away as hands reached up and tried to cradle her face.
“Waves,” said a voice. Soft and gentle, but hurried; driven by adrenaline. “Waves, it’s me. It’s Nicole.”
She whimpered. She knew that voice. That voice was home. She knew the name. She wanted to believe this was real. This was her salvation. But she couldn’t see her saviour, and she didn’t know why. She was too scared to trust. “No,” she whined, “no it’s not you.”
“Waves,” the voice said again, still calm, but insistent. “Waverly. It is me. It’s Nicole, baby. Look at me.” She felt the hands on her face again, gently urging her to look forward. To look up. “Focus on me and everything will be fine,” said the voice.
She looked forward. She looked up. She saw a soft, pale, oval shape, halo’d by auburn. She saw warm pink. Gentle brown. She blinked and willed her eyes to work better, to see clearer.
Her world came into focus.
“Nicole?”
“Yeah, baby,” Nicole half-sighed, half-cried in relief. “It’s me. We’re here. I’ve got you.” She hastily began to undo the ropes around Waverly’s ankles. “We’ve got to get you out of here,” she continued, stepping around to the back of the chair and slicing through the zip-ties and freeing Waverly’s hands.
The rush of blood to her hands triggered a vasovagal response and Waverly felt herself start to faint.
“Whoa, stay with me, baby,” said Nicole, catching her as she slumped down in the chair, almost sliding off of it. “Deep breaths.” Nicole waited as Waverly caught her breath, and pulled herself from the brink of unconsciousness. “Are you with me?” Waverly gave a weak nod. “Ok, good. Listen to me, Waves, we need to go, ok? Wynonna and Dolls are attempting to corner the revenant that got you, but they don’t have him yet. We need to get you out of here in case he comes back. Can you walk?”
Waverly nodded, “I…I think so.”
Nicole gave an answering nod of her head. “Ok, stay behind me, but keep your hand on my belt at all times, alright?”
“Yeah.”
The two women started to make their way back out of the small room. A single gun-shot rang out, stopping them in their tracks. The familiar smell of sulfur and ozone momentarily filled the air. The pair shared a look.
Letting out a cleansing breath, Nicole curled her arm back around Waverly’s shoulders and drew her in. “Safe.”
Waverly smiled gratefully. “Safe.”