Page 8 of Love What's Left
Tremors wrack my body no matter how hard I fight to stay still, but Icanshut off my brain.I control my mind.I have to.
A light splash reaches my ears, then a warm, damp cloth passes over my face and neck, followed by a soft towel. He washes my body gently with vetiver-and-citrus-scented water, then rinses me clean.
Each time he completes an area, he dries me, then covers that part of me with what, I think, is a cotton blanket.
When he finishes, he drags a pair of underwear up my legs, then lifts me to sit. With a strong arm braced behind my back, he tugs a big shirt over my head, lifting my arms for me and fitting them into the sleeves. The soft T-shirt smells familiar. A memory knocks on the wall in my mind, and then it’s gone.
Unwelcome appreciation worms its way into my psyche, but I shut it down. This is just another game. He thinks I’ll cooperate if I’m grateful for being treated with kindness.
He picks me up in his arms and transfers me to the other bed in the room.
I shake and shudder, but keep my eyes squeezed tight as I wait for his body to come down on top of mine. Instead, he moves away. The swish and swoosh of fabric and the clank of the railing on the bed reach my ears.
Everything is soft and clean and quiet.
I have to know.
When I crack my eyelids open, only the light from the attached bath illuminates a posh bedroom, but it’s enough to seehim. A tall man, built like a superhero from the movies, with the face of an archangel—or Lucifer—replaces my sweat-soaked sheets with clean ones.
He glances toward me, then approaches with a long, determined stride. “You’re awake.”
I stiffen as he wraps his arms around me and presses his face against my neck.
“You scared the hell out of me. How are you feeling?” he asks in a thick voice.
“Like s-sunshine and r-rainbows,” I whisper through chattering teeth.What am I doing? Shut up.
He lifts his head and reaches for a tumbler on the bedside table, bringing the straw to my lips. “It’s ice water, but I can get you juice or ginger ale—”
I jerk my face away. “No. I’ll be good.”
He stills. “You’re safe with me.”
He’s a good actor. He actually sounds like he means it.
I don’t have the strength to fight back when he lifts me into a bridal carry, so I don’t try.Look at me cooperating. A good little prisoner.
Instead of returning me to my bed, he sits on the edge of his own with me in his lap. “You’re in withdrawal, but you should level out soon. Maybe a few days. When you’re in it, it feels like eternity. I know. We have to be careful, but you’ll be okay. That’s why we have the heart monitor.”
“D-drugs?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, then says gently, “You had a couple different ones in your system. Trahypnofen was one of them.”
Never heard of it.“I d-don’t know anything.”
He brushes my hair from my forehead. “Memory loss is normal with that drug. Try not to worry. You’re safe now. You’re here with me, and no one will ever hurt you again. I swear it.”
I shake my head in painful, violent denial.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it,” he says.
Don’t speak. Don’t think. Why can’t I stop listening to him?
“You’re strong. You’re going to heal.” He presses his forehead against my temple, his hard hands clutching me like I’m his life raft.
Doesn’t he know? I couldn’t even save myself. “Who are you? What do you w-want?”
His breaths turn ragged, striking my skin with hard little puffs. “You don’t know me?”
