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“You have to eat so you can take your pills,” I remind her.
“Maybe later.”
I pull the curtains back, earning a groan. “What’re you doing?”
“I already told you. It’s time to eat.” I set the bag of food on her bed before climbing up and setting up a picnic, ignoring the Navy-sized lump next to me with the covers pulled over her head. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” she says sarcastically.
“Liar. Sit up. I brought your favorites.” I unload the sampler platter that’s packed full of fried food, everything from egg rolls to mozzarella sticks, with at least six different sauces. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed after sharing so many meals with this woman, it’s that she loves her sauce.
The covers fly off her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Come on,” I say lightheartedly, trying to boost her mood. “Just a few bites.”
Betty’s been blowing up my phone since she left Navy’s room two hours ago, telling me Navy refused to eat and wouldn’t talk to her while she was cleaning the room.
“Will that make you go away?” she asks, spotting the Skittles I brought along with the food. She picks the red package up and studies it as if remembering the bag of candy we shared on the day we met and many times after that.
“Nope.” I pop a fry in my mouth, hoping the small gesture will make her smile. But no such luck.
“Then what will?” She tosses the candy to the side and a pang of disappointment hits me square in the chest. It’s fine, though. She deserves to feel however she wants right now, and I won’t let it deter me from taking care of her.
“Fuck all.”
She sits up to face me. I try to hide my reaction but must not do a good enough job because she reaches up and gently touches her face. Her cheek is so swollen that half her eye is hidden. With the bruising still in its early stages, it’s mostly red and purple, but there’s a streak of yellow where the skin is straining to contain the swelling.
“I’m ugly. I know.”
I shake my head. “That’s not at all what I was thinking.”
“Then what?”
My nostrils flare. “You don’t want to know.”
Not even knowing that Ray’s days are numbered is enough to keep my rage contained. My brain is on a constant loop of saying “fuck it” and taking him out, and forcing myself to be patient. It’s fucking exhausting.
Right now, looking at Navy’s wrecked face, all I want to do is ride to his piece of shit house and blow his brains all over his tobacco-stained walls.
Her eyes redden as though tears are on the horizon. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Yes,” I say with determination.
She nods and lies down, her back to me. “Good.”
That she isn’t trying to talk me out of it anymore says a lot. She’s hit her limit. It’s not that I’m glad this happened, but I won’t have to lie when I take him out.
“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want, but you need to eat.”
“Leave it.”
“Not until I see you get some food in you.”
She sighs dramatically. “Jesus Christ, Rigger. You’re not my mom, and I don’t have to do shit.”
In seconds, I’m straddling her, pushing her onto her back. “What you went through was the worst fuckin’ thing that can happen to a woman, and I get that. As much as I can anyway. But I will not lose you to this, Navy. You won’t disappear. I won’t fuckin’ let you.” I grip her shoulders, shaking them slightly. “Do you hear me?”
Liquid sadness leaks from the corners of her eyes, her nose running as saliva gathers on the corners of her lips. She’s so fuckin’ beautiful, even like this. Even with the demons winning the battle in her mind, she’s beautiful.
