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The thoughts haunt me, swirl around my brain as I makemy way towards the bathroom and watch in silence as my tub slowly fills with water. It was one of those part shower part tub situations and after a brief moment of contemplation (mainly standing clutching my side) I realized that a shower was simply out of the question and there was no way I could remain comfortably standing for that long. Even for something as brief as a shower.
So a bath it was.
Eyes trained on the raising water level I ignore once again the not-so-very subtle dodge of my question to Kaleb regarding the journal. I’d be a fool to think he did not want it back but it was curious how he sidestepped the issue altogether. He hasn't been able to shut up about getting his journal back from me for days and suddenly he doesn't want to talk about it.
He was hiding something. Of that I was sure. He must have been if he was crazy enough to show up at my door unannounced, not even mentioning the journal once, and then accept my deal after he had so blatantly rejected it not two days prior.
Grumbling, I turn off the faucet and lay out my towel. Taking off my shirt was a whole other matter in itself. My side still ached painfully and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out as I raised my arm above my head, nearly passing out from the pain. I repeat the process with my other arm, my shirt falling flimsily to the floor.
I had let him touch me. Let him slip past my boundaries like a dark knight who had disregarded the king’s orders and was now following his own agenda. Fulfilling his own destiny and selfish dark wishes. And I, like the broken princess I am, had let him.
Couldn't resist him to my own demise. His touch was like feeling light after your skin after spending eternity locked in a dungeon of darkness. I needed it to survive.
Touch.
His touch.
After not having it for so long I simply couldn't live without it now. He was starting to get too deep. The urge to leave, to run, ran its claws deep into my chest, threatening to spill blood. But I couldn't run from him. Not after what he had just agreed to. Not after what he had just declared out on my second-hand leather couch.
Not after what I had let him do to me.
I take a couple of steps towards the steaming tub just as white spots dance across my vision and I have to grip the edge of the tub to keep my feet from slipping out from me. Taking a chance, I decide to glance down at my bare stomach, a task I’ve been avoiding all day, and nearly hiss at the sight.
A huge black and purple bruise swells across my ribs, achingly tender to the touch. I instantly regret looking. It looked a lot worse than it felt. And I realize distantly that the men must have kicked me harder in the side than I had originally thought.
Gritting my teeth from the pain I hoist one of my legs over the tub before following with the other before slowly sinking into the steaming water. Sighing, I momentarily forget my pain as hot water washes over me, easing my aches and pains. For the first time since last night, I let myself breathe.
Water trickles over my fingers and I reach for a bar of lavender soap to wash Kaleb’s scent off of me. I could smell him everywhere. A distant mix of mint and whisky. I was slathered with it. Completely and utterly marked by the dangerous boy.
Shivers wash over me, goosebumps pebbling my skin as I relive the feeling of his tongue against me. The way it had moved so perfectly. Like he was in sync with my every move, my every thought. He was a golden thread becoming more and more entangled with threads of my own.
A knot I couldn't untangle.
Lathering the bar of soap, I clean under my arms, across my chest, wincing as the bar of soap grazes my side before finally cleaning off my legs. The warm water is hypotonic and I suddenly feel like dozing off, my eyelids about ten pounds each. It had been a long couple of days. Make that a long couple of years. I think distantly that I should go visit mom again.
Her daisies are probably dying.
She would need fresh ones.
Not to mention Uncle John has been suspiciously quiet since dropping the bomb about his little painting commission. Which I was silently grateful given I had only finished one of the three and I wasn't certain when I would get the chance to paint again. Let alone if he would even like the midnight fury painting I had all but finished in sleep-deprived madness the night Kaleb threw me in the pool.
I was so tired. Tired of running. Tired of trying to fix my father's mistakes and of saving my mother from his business faux pas. The soap slips through my fingers and I reach blindly through the soapy water to try and find it. My fingers are already pruney and I wonder if I really did fall asleep. If I really did let my dreams take me and only just now woke when they became nightmares.
I should probably get out before the water turns cold. Kaleb's snarky remark about our building's water temperature grating against my skin like sandpaper a la Home Depot. He probably had a lavish bathroom fit for a dark king in that twisted mansion of his. One with a clawfoot tub and one of those showers that had more water pressure than the amazon rainforest. I could just picture him lavishing in his wealth and expensive body washes. A bathroom fit for an underground king.
And to think I just got my shampoo from Target's Herbal Essence collection.
He’s probably out there right now, his combat-clad feet dirtying my coffee table, a smirk twisted over his face as he invades my apartment. Either that or he left. Goosebumps cover my whole body at the thought and I frown.
I need to get out of this dang tub already before my thoughts turn even more deranged. Gripping my side I try to lift myself out from the tub but my side cramps painfully and I find myself gasping, my bruised ribs in agony, waiting for the blood to rush back to my head. A grunt slips past my lips, my head resting against the lip of the tub as I try to get my breathing under control.
Stupid pile of bills. Stupid expensive hospital. I think to myself as my knuckles grip the edge of the tub in another escape attempt from the bathing contraption.
I just need Advil. A lot of Advil. And some water.And then I would be fine. I would be fine. I’d just sleep it off and wake up in the morning as bright and peachy as a mother flipping peach.
“Blondie.” Kaleb growls from the other room, “You're taking an awful long time in there, are you trying to avoid me?” He sounds more amused than irritated and if I wasn't in so much pain I probably would have replied with some sarcastic comment about how not everything is about him and believe it or not my sole reason for getting out of bed each morning didn't have anything to do with obnoxious boys who invade living rooms.
Another (more annoying) part of me warms at the thought that he hasn't left yet.
