Here he is, the love of my life. He whimpers in the corner and his body convulses as he hears the sound of someone opening the door of his private room. The room is pitch dark, besides the ray of street light falling on his head through a small window on the top, just the way he likes it since the day he has been found. His back is facing towards the door from where I entered, with his arms wrapped around his folded legs, his feet flat on the ground and he is resting his chin on his knees.

"Saw" I whisper, loud enough only for him to pick up from the door as I slowly walk in the room and close the door behind me.

His tense body frees a little by the sound of my voice, while he turns his head a little to catch a glimpse of me through the corner of his right eye over his left shoulder. He remains still, in the same defensive pose.

I walk up to him, sit down with my knees to the floor diagonally behind him and keep my right hand softly on his tensed up left shoulder. He nervously tightens his shoulders and then slowly relaxes them. I softly plant a peck on the back of his shaved head, while I slowly and tentatively trace my index finger lightly on the stitches covering a concussion on the top of his head.

He has his dark brown eyes fixated on the clean white marble floor. His lips constantly keep moving to a silent prayer or something that I could not distinguish or understand by trying to read his plump but dehydrated and chapped lips with a bit of blood outlining a cut, or even catch the infrasonic frequencies he was producing at very very low decibels through my power of hearing. He is practically always speaking to himself in the same way as this, or possibly to an invisible being in thin air, who maybe only he could see and perceive.

"Hi Saw! How do you feel today, baby?" I inquire, as my voice shakes a little, attempting to sound enthusiastic and excited while I check out the dark and heavy bags under his puffed-up and hooded eyes.

I slowly keep my left hand lightly on his right, trying to test the waters, wondering if he would swat it away. Surprisingly, he does not react at all. He had this serene faraway look on his face. He looked calm, though he was still muttering something under his breath, now slower than he used to before. He remains dead still.

"Nikita, Miss Chernov," a double knock on the door accompanied by a muffled familiar voice at the other side of the room's entrance draws me out of the trance that I am in.

"You can come in, Natasha" I call out quietly, but loud enough to be heard from a few metres away to the person behind the door.

It was Saw's doctor, Dr. Natasha Smith, who was personally involved with Sawyer in just about each and every step of the process of his healing.

Natasha walks in with her golden blonde curls reaching up to her chest which bounced each time she walked, with a straight posture, her chest out and shoulders pushed back, with her spine straight. She took bigger strides than most women with her height (of about five feet two inches or so). She was conventionally very attractive, with a symmetrical face and a confident posture of a woman with a successful career.

We had grown quite close, me and Natasha. As it was pretty prominent from our interaction, we are pretty much on first name basis at the moment.

"Did you find out that he slept continuously for about six hours last night?" Dr Natasha asks while she smiles proudly towards me, standing about a foot away from me. "This is the best in his case as yet."

I stand up in surprise and turn my body to face her completely. My lips slowly starting carving into a huge and genuine smile, probably displaying almost all of my ugly and asymmetrical teeth.

The further events that would take place after this, flash before my eyes in the split of a second. How Saw would slowly overcome all this fear, talk to the detectives about what happened, we could finally catch the culprit and give him justice. He would one day come back home; we could live a normal life- get married and have kids.

"Is he still having nightmares though?" I inquire, beginning to close my mouth slowly.

"He is, sometimes, still. But he has improved a lot since the day he walked in here. I am hoping to see more progress in his recovery in the next few days." She looks at him curled up on the ground, still in the same position as her expression changes from smiling to a serious one with intrigue as she looks up at me, "Did the detectives find out anything new or maybe different?"

"I have not received any fresh information about that since two to three days. They are still looking into it, looking for his phone records, checking out CCTVs and inquiring people. They are not trying much though because it does not seem like much of a case to them without any witnesses or proofs. It might be dead end till Sawyer actually starts to speak up. They still want believe that he ran away from home or got into an unfortunate accident which would lead him to where he is currently. The only thing they are consistent with currently is their doubts about me, as they call me in at any time of the day."

The detectives do visit sometimes to check on Sawyer. Saw is their biggest clue in this mystery.

The first time they came, he refused to talk to them, started shouting random things, became extremely startled, jumped on the detective, started running in circles and hitting the wall, and in fact even attacked me when he was inquired about the whereabouts of the incidents that took place.

"He will come back home soon, Nikita. You do not have to worry. The medicines and the stimulated environment here is already making him better. He is our first priority and you know that," consoles Natasha, as she keeps her hand lightly on mine as she observes that I was continuously fidgeting with the car keys that I was holding in my hands, while she tenderly looks into my eyes with that sympathetic head tilt.

I relax my trembling hand under her soothing affect.

I have always had anxiety issues. I remember that Fidget Spinner phase so well, when Sawyer bought home about a ton of those, as he thought they might help give me patience and somewhat sober up my anxiety after he looked up something on YouTube. They were so cheap- in both price and quality, that they lasted tops two to three weeks per piece. But did they help out with my anxiety? I cannot really say so. But he was always there supporting me through my most horrible days. But at present I have to be there for him, sober him up and keep him afloat.

Natasha and I bounce back from that bonding moment when we observe the pocket of her spotlessly white lab coat vibrating. She leaves my hand and reaches for her phone.

"Excuse me," she says to me, as I observe the look on her face suddenly turn from calm to annoyed and her pale white face starting to turn slightly red.

As Natasha leaves the room, she closes the door and stands exactly opposite to it. I can listen to faded angry tones of her probably shouting at someone on the phone while she periodically oscillates on the opposite side of the door, for about half a minute. I observe Saw tighten his grasp on his knees with the increase in her voice.

"I finally broke up with him, he was getting on my nerves. But fuck it," she informs me as she walks in the room and closes the door behind her "Let's go out for dinner after my shift to cheer each other up. Just a girl's night out. We will enjoy this day, bitch about our lives, our boss and colleagues while we drink our troubles away."

Her face turns down as she observes the hesitant look on my face. It is not that I was busy with some work, or I didn't like her, I was confused if I should go out and have fun while Sawyer stays in such a state. Though my meeting time would end in the next forty-five minutes and I would have to leave for home.

She pulls me outside the room via my hand and closes the door behind.

"Oh, come on. You need to take care of yourself and be happy just so you can help him be happy. Your meeting time gets over in about a quarter hour anyways, so you will be driving home straight in any case. You haven't had a nice time in a long time. Now you have started to look wayyy older than you actually are," she giggles with a teasing look on her face, trying to instigate me into going with her.

I giggle back while closing and opening my eyelids slowly in agreement.

I actually have not been out for a very long time. I am so caught up in initially finding Sawyer, then taking care of him when he was finally found, and then staying home and binge-watching movies. I had also forgotten live. So? Has he though? He did not have much fun either since a year. He is going through some unknown trauma that made him reach where he is right now.

"Okay fiiiinee. We won't drink much, just some red wine. But you are coming to my house for dinner tonight. I am cooking. That is FINAL," she instructs light-heartedly.

"Okay Madame, but please make sure he is in good hands." I had to give in now, she had made a very good case.

"Have I ever made sure he was not?" she asked rhetorically, rolling her eyes with a scorn while leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Natasha is someone from a whole new world. She is so mature in most ways, and yet so childishly adorable for many instances. It is probably her seventh breakup in the last one year (the first time I came here on the recommendation of Milan), she says that she cannot let a man wear her independence down, ever since her first controlling high-school sweetheart. It has been a short period of time since we have met and yet I have become really fond of her. We talk to each other like we have known each other for years.

I open the door and walk back in towards my love. I squeeze Saw's shoulder while I sit down on my knees behind him again. I slowly put my arm around his waist from behind. He does not react, that being a pleasant surprise of the day. I kiss his head while I sit back down on my butt, with my head on his back.

It feels so safe being around him. I let his warmth soothe mine and his hyperactive nerves. I close my eyes and slowly harmonise my breath to the rhythm of the rising of his shoulders with his own breath.