—Kindred—
by Octavia E. Butler

5

Pain dragged me back to consciousness. At first, it was all I was aware of; every part of my body hurt. Then I saw a blurred face above me—the face of a man—and I panicked.

I scrambled away, kicking him, clawing the hands that reached out for me, trying to bite, lunging up toward his eyes. I could do it now. I could do anything.

"Dana!"

I froze. My name? No patroller would know that.

"Dana, look at me for God's sake!"

Kevin! It was Kevin's voice! I stared upward, managed to focus on him clearly at last. I was at home. I was lying on my own bed, bloody and dirty, but safe. Safe!

Kevin lay half on top of me, holding me, smearing himself with my blood and his own. I could see where I had scratched his face—so near the eye.

"Kevin, I'm sorry!"

"Are you all right now?"

"Yes. I thought … I thought you were the patroller."

"The what?"

"The … I'll tell you later. God, I hurt, and I'm so tired. But it doesn't matter. I'm home."

"You were gone two or three minutes this time. I didn't know what to think. You don't know how good it is to have you back again."

"Two or three minutes?"

"Almost three minutes. I watched the clock. But it seemed to be longer."

I closed my eyes in pain and weariness. It hadn't just seemed longer to me. I had been gone for hours and I knew it. But at that moment, I couldn't have argued it. I couldn't have argued anything. The surge of strength that helped me to fight when I thought I was fighting for my life was gone.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital," said Kevin. "I don't know how I'm going to explain you, but you need help."

"No."

He got up. I felt him lift me.

"No, Kevin, please."

"Listen, don't be afraid. I'll be with you."

"No. Look, all he did was hit me a few times. I'll be all right." Suddenly I had strength again, now that I needed it. "Kevin, I went from here the first time, and this second time. And I came back here. What will happen if I go from the hospital and come back there?"

"Probably nothing." But he had stopped. "No one who sees you leave or come back will believe it. And they wouldn't dare tell anybody."

"Please. Just let me sleep. That's all I need really—rest. The cuts and bruises will heal. I'll be fine."

He took me back to the bed, probably against his better judgment, and put me down. "How long was it for you?" he asked.

"Hours. But it was only bad at the end."

"Who did this to you?"

"A patroller. He … he thought I was a runaway." I frowned. "I have to sleep, Kevin. I'll make more sense in the morning, I promise." My voice trailed away.

"Dana!"

I jumped, tried to refocus my attention on him.

"Did he rape you?"

I sighed. "No. I hit him with a stick—knocked him out. Let me sleep."

"Wait a minute …"

I seemed to drift away from him. It became too much trouble for me to go on listening and trying to understand, too much trouble to answer.

I sighed again and closed my eyes. I heard him get up and go away, heard water running somewhere. Then I slept.