Page 20 of The Promise

Roman stopped in his tracks, turning back to her with an assurance at the ready—not that it helped. “I’m just going in there, Karine—the bathroom is right there,” he said, pointing at the opened French doors that led to a dimly lit bathroom attached to the bedroom. “You’ll be able to see me from here. Do you understand? We need to do something about those cuts before they start bleeding even worse than they already are.”

It took seconds for her to unfurl her fingers from his arm. Too many seconds, really.

She gulped down the lump in her throat but eventually nodded.

“Promise?” she asked.

Roman stilled when he started to turn away again. “What?”

“I’ll still see you—promise?”

That was the only way she was letting him go anywhere. It felt better like that—everything was better, then.

Roman nodded once, his gaze softening for a brief moment. “Yeah, I promise.”

• • •

Karine hadn’t been given the chance to see her reflection in a mirror, but she was sure she looked like a complete fucking mess. Maybe under different circumstances, she would have cared, but the state of her appearance was the last thing on her mind as Roman worked carefully on her feet to clean and bandage the wounds.

For starters, those voices were still in her head. Even if Karine pretended they weren’t.

They weren’t as loud anymore now that he was there, tending to the wounds on her feet and giving her something better to focus on, but she was acutely aware of their battling presence in the recesses of her mind, trying to override the fading echoes of her very present and aware thoughts.

What were they saying?

The man in the other room—drinking water. He deserved to be knifed, one said, being there like that, she spit right after. The younger one insisted everything would be fine, it always is with Roman.

Karine chewed on the edge of her pinky nail, gaze locked on a freckle on the back of Roman’s hand while he worked on her feet, willing the words away. Pretending like they weren’t there, as she tried to make sense of them at the same time.

Why is this happening?

Her voice—the only one she thought mattered—went unheard, and unanswered.

Of course.

Masha had looked in with the first aid kit in hand, but Roman sent her away. He could handle it. Apparently, the wounds weren’t as bad as they seemed.

On his knees at her feet, working away with his gentle touch, Roman said nothing. No, he simply took care of her. She was still a little too enthralled with that fact—how careful he was, that he took care of her at all, really.

The silence stretched on between them while he finished wrapping the bandages around her heels where she’d gotten the worst of the cuts. But it was only silent to him. Inside, she was screaming.

“It wasn’t me,” Karine whispered suddenly, the words bursting from her softly, but oh, so loud all the same. Roman’s head jerked up, those eyes nailing into hers when she said, “It wasn’t me. With the knife. That man—I-I didn’t attack him.”

Roman put her foot down and straightened up, replying, “Except it was you ... it just wasn’t you, too. I know, Karine.”

He didn’t give her time to argue, or deny anything.

“Their names are Katee and Katina,” he murmured, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to work kinks out of the muscles and didn’t have an issue at all with the things he was saying. It was something that just was. That’s how he offered the information to Karine, he just said it, and she couldn’t tell if he felt any certain way about it. “Katee is a little girl—she draws, hides and watches people, I think.”

That didn’t mean Karine wanted to admit it.

Or believe it.

“You’re lying,” she said, shaking her head fast. Pointing a finger at him, Karine muttered, “Stop it, I don’t want to hear this. You’re lying to me.”

Roman leaned closer to Karine, his brow lifting as he said, “No, you listen to me.”

She stiffened at his tone.