Iria came to visit me too. She cleaned me. Fed me. Brushed the knots out of my hair. Treated me as if I was a child again.
The first time she undressed me, I wanted to disappear. My face burned with shame, but I couldn’t stop her. And when I saw my own body again, I felt even worse. No scars. No bruises. No signs that anything had happened to me at all. As if none of it were real. As if my memories were lying.
It made me sick.
“Don’t worry, love,” Iria said one night, noticing my flushed cheeks. “I’ve done this many times before.”
Her kindness made it worse. I didn’t deserve it.
But the nights were the worst part. I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t move either, so I just lay there, trapped with my thoughts.
My memories.
Reliving them again and again and again.
At least I’d never forget. And I’d never forget the vow I’d made.
I’d make thempay.
Maybe I couldn’t do it now, but I would find a way.
Then finally one morning, Iria came to my room with soup. She opened the curtains and sunlight spilled across the room.
“Thank you.” I managed.
I couldn’t believe it. I spoke. The words scratched at my throat and I didn’t even feel them leave my lips, but there they were.
Iria smiled.
“Good morning, love,” she said, her whole face lighting up. I smiled back.
Later, Will stepped into the room with a kind of nervous energy that made my chest tighten.
“I heard you were feeling better,” he said.
He came closer, holding a large gift box tied with twine.
“I brought something for you,” he said, setting it down on the bed. “Do you want me to open it?”
I shook my head, and my hands trembled as I reached for the string. It took more effort than I wanted to admit to pull it loose, my arms felt distant, unfamiliar, but I sat up, and opened the box.
Inside was a dress.
A soft taupe dress with a squared neckline and delicate flowers stitched along the bodice. I reached out and let my fingers graze the fabric.
It was soft. Beautiful. Too beautiful.
“I thought you needed something new to wear,” Will said. His voice was light, but I could hear the thread of vulnerability beneath it. “You can’t keep walking around in that thing.” He nodded toward the green dress Iria had folded neatly on the dresser.
“I hope it wasn’t expensive.” I whispered.
He looked surprised, as if he had forgotten the sound of my voice. I almost had too.
“Oh, it was,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “But I’d give anything for that smile.”
Oldme would have hugged him, maybe even kissed him on the cheek to show my gratitude. Butnew me… She wasn’t the same. She had changed.
Ihad changed.
