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Fuck You - Silent Child
“Strip.”
Her jaw tightens, muscles bulging by her temples. I had to help her move from the bedroom to the en-suite, and she already hated that. She can’t stand needing anyone’s help.
I get rid of my suit jacket, hanging it on the hook attached to the door, and unbutton the sleeves of my white shirt before rolling them up.
She’s still standing when I open the bath tap and adjust the temperature.
“I said strip, Kayla.”
“I’ll strip when you leave the room,” she snaps back. She attempts to make it harsh, but she sways, putting a hand on the wall so she doesn’t fall.
There was probably no need to chain her to the bed. She’s so weak she couldn’t take two steps in a row.
Her eyes lose focus for a few seconds, and I wonder if she’ll faint again.
The three men who beat her up yesterday damaged her more than I thought, and she’s clearly got a bad concussion based on the number of times she’s fainted.
That’s honestly annoying.
“I’m not leaving the room,” I explain calmly since she decided to act like she doesn’t get it.
“Then I’m not stripping.” The frustration in her voice is yet another form of denial.
She needs to get it through her little head that there will be no more negotiating what I ask, and that she needs to execute my orders without hesitation or questioning.
I drop salts into the bath and look back at her as I straighten up. “I’m making it nice for you. You can thank me later. Now get in there.”
When she doesn’t, I look her up and down, completely unimpressed by her childish behavior. I bring a finger behind my ear, caressing the skin there, right at the tip of my glasses’ branch, while I think of what I could say or do. It comes easy.
Grabbing the bottle of water, I unscrew the cap and throw it to the floor before holding the water above the bath.
“What are you doing?” she panics.
Slowly, I tip the bottle until water pours out.
“Nate…”
“I’ll stop when you’re in the bath. You can drink whatever’s left.”
Eyes wide, she acts quicker than lightning. “Okay…fuck, okay.” Her hoodie is already on the floor. “Fuck, I’m doing it. I’m getting in the bath…stop.”
I slow down, wanting to laugh when she’s finally naked and trips over herself before hurrying into the tub.
I stop as she hisses, the hot water probably too intense for her cuts and bruises.
“This is highly amusing,” I tell her flatly.
She’s still lowering herself as she bites back, “Fuck you. Give me that bottle.”
Because I’m true to my word, I hand her the half-empty bottle. She snatches it from me, drinking like she’s been in a desert for three days.
“Not too quick.”
She ignores me.
I shake my head and grab a loofah and shower gel on the side of the bath.
