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I nod, already heading for the door that will lead out to the ring, because fuck yes, I’m going to fight.
For her, every goddamn day of my life.
Chapter 10
Deirdre
I feel so heavy that I can’t even tell if I’m actually waking up or not. For a long time, I’m caught in some state of half-sleep, aware of the bed beneath me and the blankets on top but unable to move or open my eyes or even think. Just the anticipation of needing to move feels like a monumental effort, so I give up and lie there for a while.
But, little by little, thoughts work their way in, even though I’m not aware of myself actually thinking them. Thoughts in the shape of questions like, Why does this bed smell different than it usually does? And why does the mattress feel firmer?
The answers to the questions penetrate the syrup of my mind slowly, and then all at once.
I’m in Elio’s bed. The bed he put me into last night.
The bed we shared after I rubbed myself all over him and then he fucked me. Again.
It’s as if remembering that fact has a physical echo, because I’m now painfully aware of the tenderness between my legs. I groan, muscles feeling rubbery, and drag myself into a seated position, sagging backwards against the bed’s headboard. I stare blankly into the room for a while, taking in this new angle, this arrangement of a place I’m not used to waking up in.
Something tells me I’m about to get used to it.
I don’t have my phone with me, but a heavy loll of my head to the side brings a clock on the bedside table into view. It’s past noon. I can’t believe I slept that long. But I guess after all the insanity of last night, I really needed it.
Apparently Elio didn’t, though. The man is nowhere to be found in the bedroom, and without the door on the bathroom I can see that he isn’t in there either. I sigh heavily, raking my fingers through tangled hair. When my fingertips graze my scalp, I remember him washing my hair so thoroughly, both tender and possessive.
And now he’s just fucking gone.
Lovely.
Not that I expect or even want him hanging around the morning after or anything, but…
But it’s hard not to feel abandoned. And I hate that I even feel that at all.
I don’t need Elio sitting there staring at me in my sleep waiting for me to wake up so he can say, “Good morning.” If anything, I should be grateful for his absence. It will give me some time to fucking think without him unspooling all my senses.
Beside the clock on the bedside table there’s also a tray of food. Rosa must have been here. Strange. Usually, she’s not very quiet, and she doesn’t care if I’m still sleeping when she comes in wielding her vacuum and duster like swords. Things must be different now that I’m sleeping in Elio’s bed.
No. Not sleeping. Just… Slept. Once. One night only.
Oh God.
If I’m going to even attempt to work through all the knots of what I’m feeling and thinking, I’m going to need some energy. I eye the tray and select a crusty slice of bread then slather a chocolate spread on top. I don’t have much of an appetite, but the food is heavenly, and I eat a hearty portion before pouring myself a cup of tea from the pot. It’s gone cold, but I still drink it down appreciatively. I’m more thirsty that I’d realized, so the coolness actually feels quite nice. That combined with the little thrill of caffeine starting to hit my system has me feeling halfway human again as I finish off my chocolate bread.
Once I’m done my breakfast, or brunch, I suppose, considering the time, I ease my feet over the side of the bed and hop down. I suppress a grunt of discomfort when the force of my feet hitting the floor reverberates up to the sore place between my legs.
After such a long sleep and chugging the tea, I have to go pee. Elio’s bathroom is much closer, but I eschew it in favour of the one I’ve been using up until now. It’s strange. When I first got here, I was so adamant about not calling that bedroom or bathroom or bed mine. It wasn’t my bed or room because it was the one Elio had forced me into.
But now, I call it mine, simply to contrast it with Elio’s. Last night I slept in Elio’s bed. In Elio’s room. Not mine.
So I head for my bathroom now, glancing around just to make fully sure that Elio isn’t hiding in some corner I’m not aware of. But nope. It really is just me in here.
Which is fine. Absolutely fine.
I pee, wincing as I gently pat myself dry. I’m not actively bleeding right now, and I consider that a small miracle considering what I put my flesh through last night. What Elio put it through. The pain of plunging right back into the channel he tore.
Still made you come again, though.
I swat away that internal voice, not sure if it’s mine or if its Elio’s. I wash my hands vigorously, scrubbing my skin like I can scrub away the past twenty-four hours. No, the past freaking month.
