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“Can we use the toilet and bathe?” Chase asks, staring at the wound carved into my thigh.
Rosario hesitates, holding the ointment in her hand, before nodding. “Yes. But I’ll have to reapply your ointment afterward. And you mustn’t tell anyone about this, okay? It’s safe right now.”
Chase and I exchange a look, not understanding what she means by safe, but I relish the idea of washinghimoff me. The urge to scrub my skin raw has my fingertips tingling.
Chase climbs to his feet as I struggle to get off the mattress, the pain between my legs making me double over whenever I move. Chase grabs my hands, helping me stand, the apology in his eyes causing a twinge in my heart. I squeeze his hands, whispering, “Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault.”
He doesn’t say a word. Instead, his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows hard.
Rosario moves to the stairs. “Come. We need to get you cleaned before he returns.”
Returns? I don’t know where the hell the freak went, but I hope he never returns.
Clinging to Chase’s hand, we follow her. My movements are slow and stiff, my body protesting every step. Gritting my teeth, I focus on how good it will feel to wash that sick bastard off my skin.
Chase is patient, taking the brunt of my weight as I descend the stairs. I grip the narrow railing with the other hand, trying not to hurt him. He suffered enough last night… or whenever the hell it was. I have no concept of time in this hellish place.
“How did we get up here?” I ask her, hoping the conversation will distract me from the pain.
“Daemon carried Chase, and then you, from the exam room.”
“Who the hell is Daemon?” He glares at Rosario, his nostrils flaring.
“Part of the inner circle.” Rosario pauses at the attic door, dark eyes flashing a warning through her veil. “I have the taser. Don’t make me use it.”
I snort. “Do we look like we’re in any fucking position to run?” Tears fill my eyes as I say those words. They’ve beaten Chase and me down so badly that there’s no hope of escape right now. Which is a damn shame, considering now would be the best time to flee.
Without another word, Rosario unlocks the door and opens it. She pokes her head out, then places her finger over her lips before stepping out. She gestures for us to head right before shutting the door to the attic. Her heels click over the hardwood floor as she hurries in front of us, stopping in front of a door ahead.
She holds the door open, then steps inside, shutting it behind us. Hurrying toward the large, claw foot tub, she turns on the water. “You won’t be able to bathe long. Relieve yourselves and let me know if you need me to help you undress.”
“No. I’ll help her, and vice versa,” Chase barks, glowering at her. “While I appreciate you allowing us to get a bath, don’t expect me to believe in your kindness. You’re just as bad as he is.” With his arm wrapped around me, Chase helps me to the toilet. It would be humiliating if I weren’t so damn sore and helpless. “Go ahead and use it, angel. I’ll stand in front of you to block her view.”
Once I’m seated, Chase releases me and then whirls around. Standing protectively in front of me with his hands clenched into fists, he unleashes his rage on Rosario. “I don’t know what sick game you and that fucking devil are playing, but I’m not buying it. You stood idly by while she was stripped, violated, and cut. You watched as I was beaten, then whipped.” Although his voice is low, the rumble in it reminds me of a volcano before it explodes. “Do us a fucking favor. Don’t pretend to be something more than the sick, evil bitch that you are!”
If I hadn’t started urinating and experienced a burn from my female parts like I’ve never felt before, I would stand up and give Chase a standing ovation for laying into her. Instead, I groan from the pain, gripping the side of the toilet as it feels like I’m pissing fire.
“Kenz.” Chase kneels beside me, pushing a damp strand of hair from my face. “What can I do?”
My cheeks burn from humiliation. “Toilet paper.”
He spots some behind me and grabs it. Tearing some off the roll, he regards me with hesitation before he blurts out, “Do you need me to wipe you?”
I shake my head. “No. I can do it.” Taking it from him, I give him a weak smile. “Thanks for offering, though.” The blush spreads to my roots as I say, “Can you block me again?”
“Sure.” Chase smiles before he straightens, his face contorting from the pain. He turns around, his movements slow and careful. “If you need me….”
“I know. Thanks.”
He nods, his head turned toward Rosario. I wipe, cringing at the streaks of blood that coat the toilet paper. Dried blood stains my inner thighs.
In a rush, the memories assault me. The room changes from a bathroom to a cold, damp basement inside a dilapidated church. Men in dark blue robes surround Chase and me before tearing us apart and tossing me onto the hard, stone altar. I’m certain there are all kinds of bruises and lacerations on my back.
The stinging sensation capitulates me back to that altar. I drop the toilet paper, unaware of where I am, as images of Orpheus shoving himself inside me, his large size tearing through my tightness, fill my head. He defiled me, stealing my virginity and my innocence in the cruelest, most callous way.
I’m unaware I’m sobbing, my arms wrapped around my midsection as I rock myself back and forth on the toilet until I feel Chase’s warm, comforting embrace. Laying my head on his shoulder, I wrap my arms around him as my tears fall like rain. He holds me, his body trembling against mine, not caring that I’m still sitting on the toilet, having a breakdown.
After my sobs change to hiccups, he lifts me from the toilet and carries me to the tub. He gingerly lowers me to my feet before sliding his hands to the hem of my T-shirt, silently asking permission. I nod, slowly raising my sore arms in the air while he carefully pulls the shirt overhead.
