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“Oh, I think I’m being very helpful. You guys are the ones fucking up. He won’t hurt her, but if you stop her in any way, he will kill you.”
Ignoring the bickering men, I looked at my husband. With my hand stretched out towards him, I gradually advanced towards him, taking one more step. “Baby, it’s me. Your sunshine.”
Just as I was about to say another word, I suddenly found myself embraced tightly by his powerful arms, while my brothers swiftly intervened to remove me from his presence.
“NO!” I screamed, holding onto him as I felt his heart beat a mile a minute. His trembling body pressed against mine, his grip tightening as he buried his head in the hollow of my neck, taking in my fragrance.
Standing there, in the dead of night, with him in my arms, I took a deep breath, trying to get my head to assimilate what I needed to do next. He needed me. Truly needed me for the first time. When the smell of him hit my nose, I swallowed my bile and whispered, “Someone go grab some buckets. Fill them with hot water. I need soap and a rag. And a clean set of clothes. Sweats, if you can find them. Bring them to the treehouse.”
“Sunny, he needs more than a bath,” Logic stated.
“I know that,” I sighed. “But right now, Solomon and I are going to take this one step at a time. Isn’t that right, Solomon? Just you and me.”
His arms tightened around me, making me gasp.
“I need every one of you to back away.”
When no one moved, I firmly added, “Leave. Now.”
Although I was unsure of the duration of our presence in the backyard, I somehow persuaded him to accompany me to the treehouse.
Once inside, Solomon stood in the center of the small hideaway the brothers had built, not moving.
His eyes watched every move I made.
With buckets of hot water, soap, fresh towels, and a change of clothes, I got to work.
Removing his cut, I carefully folded it before placing it on a hook. I wasn’t sure it would be salvageable, but I would let him decide that later. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, I whispered “Raise your arms, honey.”
Doing as I asked, I peeled off the blood-encrusted shirt, dropping it into a box someone had provided. As I laid eyes on several bruises, a feeling of relief washed over me upon realizing that there were no cuts or open wounds to be found. Kneeling before him, I lifted the hem of his jeans, holding onto to his boot. “Step out.”
With his socks and shoes removed, I moved to unlatch his belt when he stopped me, grabbing my wrist in a crushing grip. Wincing, I calmly looked up at him. “I need to remove your pants, Solomon.”
“No.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You can leave them on.”
He released my wrists.
Walking over to one of the buckets, I grabbed a washcloth, dipping it into the warm water, before walking back over to him.
“Can I wash you?”
He nodded.
With great care, I moved him to sit on the small stool in the corner before proceeding to wash away weeks, and months of dirt, grime and blood from his perfect body. Despite my utmost determination, I couldn’t suppress the silent tears that kept streaming down my face.
My beautiful broken man.
My soul cried out for him, begging him to return to me.
“I’m still me, Sunny.”
My eyes snapped to his.
“What?”
“You don’t have to cry. I’m still here.”
