Page 67 of Why Broken Wings Fray

Perfect for the blood on my hands.

I scrubbed.

And scrubbed.

And scrubbed.

Yet again I slipped into that timeless void, a space absent of everything but me, the brush, and my bloodied hands. The more I brushed, though, the bloodier they became. Until it wasn’t just my skin that was coated in blood but the water around me, slowly shifting from clear liquid into something tinged with cherry. But I continued, faster and harder, desperate to see the blood gone.

“Olivia?” Killian’s voice cut through the numbness and the abyss that I had surrendered myself to. I vaguely recalled hearing footsteps thunder through the space, until the ensuite door swung open and Killian’s gasp was enough to make me lift my head and look at him.

It was then that I realized I had been crying. Wailing, actually. Streams and streams of tears had abandoned my eyes, filling the redder and redder water around me.

“Oh,” he groaned as he shut the door quietly behind him, creeping his way closer. “Oh, Olivia. What are you doing?”

His voice was cracking and broken, so I frowned at him through the tears, all the while refusing to stop scrubbing.

His hand reached towards me, where he dared to try and slip his fingers beneath the water. With a screech he pulled his hand back, shaking it as his mouth fell open. “Gods, Olivia, this water is scalding.”

I said nothing. I could say nothing. I simply stared at him, tears still falling, hands still scrubbing.

“Please stop,” he cried, “you are hurting yourself.”

No no no no.

I needed to get the blood off. Blood, off. That’s all that mattered. But there was more and more and more – why why why.

Killian braved the dunking of his hand, his face twisting in pain as he grabbed onto my wrists and yanked them both above the surface. I stared at my own fingers as if I had never seen them before, overly disgusted as blood continued to rise.

He took the scrub-brush from me and tossed it across the room, letting out a sigh as he settled on the edge of the bath and looked at me.

“We need to get you to a healer.”

“Blood,” I croaked.

“Yes, you’ve scrubbed your hands raw. They are bleeding. Quite a lot.”

There was a shift in his voice, almost as if he was disappointed. But the frown and the moisture in his eyes suggested that perhaps it was something else.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I am so sorry. I set you in here and then I had to check on the others. There were so many injuries I just couldn’t keep track of–”

“Raegan?”

Killian allowed a small, sad smile to his face. “Raegan is okay. He took a nasty slice to his arm but he’ll be fine.”

I nodded, over and over, as I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them.

A hand set on my back, his callouses slowly softening as the water heated and manipulated them. Slow, easy circles were drawn across my revealed skin, sending a scattering of goosebumps along my body that allowed me to further relax.

“I killed someone,” I whispered.

“What did you say?”

“I… I killed someone,” I whispered again, in no way louder than the first time.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his hand still working a large circle that soothed and drew me deeper and deeper into a new sort of numbness. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not,” I said, my voice cracking. “I thought Raegan was going to die and I was… I just… I killed someone, Killian.” I finally lifted my face from my knees, my eyes swollen and puffy as I stared at him. He moved the hand from my back to my cheek, pushing some of my soggy hair out and away from my face, tucking it quietly behind my ear.