Blessed relief.
Polina tears through the bags, shakes pills into her hand, and presses them to my lips.
There are more than I expected.
At least four. Maybe six. I lose track.
She presses a straw to my mouth.
"Swallow. This will help."
Then something large and warm presses across my back, replacing his hands.
I miss his hands. They’re comforting.
I shiver as he lays his hands on top of it, his fingers wrapping around where the material ends and my bare skin begins.
That’s better.
"This is a heating pad. It’s going to help. Just let the heat do its magic. This will make you feel a lot better soon."
"Physical touch helps. It soothes," she says softly.
At first, he touches me as if I’m about to break—as if even the slightest contact will send me spiraling into more pain.
But it doesn’t.
It feels good.
The way he’s touching me now…
His hand on my neck, soothing, his rough fingers grazing over tender skin. He pushes damp hair off my forehead, off my neck, the same way Polina did.
But gentler.
Because it’shim.
His hands move lower, massaging the tight knots in my shoulders, the tension in my back, my arms, and the tops of my legs.
I’m no longer embarrassed by the mess I’ve made now.
The relief feels too good, and neither of them cares. So I don’t either.
"Good. Doing so good. Just like that. Just like that."
She’s talking to me in that soft, soothing voice, the kind that makes me want to weep.
She tells me about the medicine she gave me—something over the counter that actually helps staunch the flow of blood. Pain relievers.
"Water therapy will help too," she says. "Let’s get you through this next spasm. By then, the meds should start to kick in, and you’ll want to take a bath. I’ll start it."
Matvei sits with me, and we don’t speak.
I’m glad.
He wouldn’t know the questions to ask me like she does, but I’m afraid that if I speak right now, I’ll say too much.
And not just about my past.
