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“Dirty?” Tears fill her eyes at the word, and panic claws at my insides. “You’re not dirty.” They drip down her cheeks as she stares at me.
She looks so fucking lost. So empty.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m still battling with the rage roaring inside me at the side of her like this, but I shove it all down. I have to. I have to.
Later.
With a deep breath, I move toward her. She presses harder against the wall like she’s trying to get as far away from me as possible. Even though it kills me, I keep moving toward her.
“Let me help you, Goldie.” She whimpers like a wounded animal, and it shatters my fucking heart. It rips my soul to pieces. It completely destroys me.
I don’t need her to tell me what happened to know.
He needs to die.
I need to fucking kill him.
“Where is he?” I whisper. Fear fills her wide, haunted eyes, and I immediately want to yell at myself. It doesn’t matter where he is right now. She matters.
Wrapping my hand around hers, I gently bring the toothbrush to her mouth. “Goldie,” I beg, my eyes burning. I bend to her level, meeting her blue eyes.
She parts her lips and I press the brush into her mouth. Tears fall freely down her face, and every one that drops makes me more enraged. More pissed at myself for not getting here sooner.
For not protecting her.
With as much gentleness as I can muster, I brush her teeth. Her terrified eyes stay on mine the entire time, and I force myself to stay calm. To not vibrate with the deadly fury I feel coursing through my body.
“Spit.” I reach for her hair, and she moves away, so I drop my hand. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.” Her chin wobbles, toothpaste coating her skin.
She’s never looked like this.
I’ve seen her at every emotion, at every stage of life, but the person in front of me is unrecognizable.
I step away, letting her move to the sink and spit, rinsing her mouth out before she brushes more. She’s too rough. I want to reach for her, to stop her from hurting herself, but I can’t make myself touch her again. Not when it’s clear my touch brings her more pain than anything else.
But when she spits and the white foam is laced with blood, all my resolve snaps.
“No more,” I murmur, but she ignores me as she brings the brush up. “Baby, stop.” I grip her wrist lightly, but she wrenches it away.
“Dirty,” she says again, shoving the toothbrush back into her mouth.
“You’re too rough.” I say the words as gently as I can, but she still looks wounded.
“Dirty,” is all she says.
With a deep breath, I make her drop the toothbrush. When she reaches for it, I grab it and throw it into the bin by the sink.
“No. More.”
Her eyes are empty as she stares up at me, and I immediately deflate.
I don’t know what the fuck to do.
She glances at the shower, and understanding dawns on me. Dirty. She feels dirty. She needs to feel clean.
“Shower?” I whisper. Fresh tears fill her eyes, and my heart aches. Without a word, I turn the water on, letting it warm up. I contemplate taking my shirt and jeans off, but she doesn’t need to see a naked man. She doesn’t need skin on skin contact.
