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“You haven’t eaten in days, so eat slowly.”
I wanted to sayyou’re not the boss of me.
But instead, I ate. Slowly.
He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed while I chewed slowly. My jaw ached with every motion, and lifting my arms too high too many times sprung up pain in my ribs. He was frowning, and I could see the pity in his eyes. I swear he was one grimace away from feeding me like a child.
I hated it—that pity.
I hated the idea of being pitied more than the idea of him rescuing me purely to get some sort of reward at the end.
I didn’t need pity, I never have.
Those who pitied with that look on their face meant they saw you as below them. Something small and insignificant to be looked down upon, helped back on their pathetic feet, and patted on the head before being sent on their way.Poor woman, he’d be thinking,poor little lady in this horrible situation. How sad I couldn’t do any better, that I didn’t know any better than this sort of existence.
I knew better days.
Not many of them.
But I’d had a few.
Before I was bounced around the foster care system, I remember being truly happy. Maybe it’s all in my imagination, and I don’t have those happy memories at all. But even if that’s the case, then I still know what it feels like, and one day, I don’t know how or when, I’ll get out of here and find that happiness again.
When my muscles ached too much to move more, he fed me, and I relented and let him. He’d break off small pieces of the toast and used a fork to feed me. It was humiliating, but I was hungry.
I hated this, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He was so incredibly gentle, and I was finding it hard to imagine him being violent or angry. But beyond that, what was harder to believe was there was someone in this area who wanted to help simply because it was the right thing to do, and this person had found me when I needed unconditional help the most.
I was still hungry when I finished what he had served, but he was right. If I hadn’t eaten in days, then it would be foolish to stuff my face now.
Zaqiel placed the dishes on the bedside table. “Would you like a bath?” he asked.
“What? Do I smell or something?”
“Yes.” My jaw dropped until I saw that almost smile of his again. He was actually joking, and something flared inside me—hope that I could maybe find out more about this man. That he wasn’t a completely blank slate. If I had already spent several days here and would have to spend several more, I’d at least like to know who I was dealing with.
And a sense of humor.
Well, it was a good start.
“No.” He continued, “But it’s been a few days, it might make you feel better, and I need to change the dressings on your wounds anyway.”
I glanced at the bathroom door. “I don’t think I can make it.”
“I know you can’t. I’ll take you.”
“Naked?”
This time it was more of a smirk. “I can put you in fully clothed if you’d prefer?”
I sighed. “I suppose you’ve already seen me naked.” His eyebrows shot up, and I fanned the shirt I was wearing around my body, and his expression changed.
“I tried not to look.” When I opened my mouth to respond, he placed a finger against my lips. Apparently, the move caught him by surprise as much as it did me, and he withdrew his hand as though he had been shocked. “Listen, I look after people all the time. It’s what I do. I’ll not take advantage of you… ever, and if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t force you to do anything. I simply asked if you would like a bath, and if so, I’ll help you. You have nothing to be embarrassed or afraid of.”
I stared at him.
I would admit it was a nice speech and sounded wonderful from his soothing voice—deep and reassuring. But the truth was, I had plenty to be afraid of. Lots of things both outside and—as far as I knew—inside these walls. As for being embarrassed, I wasn’t usually embarrassed by my body. I tried to keep fit and looked my best. The sort of men I entertained who would see me naked wouldn’t think twice about the scars because they didn’t care.
Yet, for whatever reason, this man cared and wanted to look after me. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to see the scars.
