Page 6 of Blade
“So, you’re telling me Delilah isn’t your real name. Can you remember what is?”
I glance down, ashamed of my lack of knowledge, because surely knowing your own name is page one in the manual of memories.
“I’m–”
His fierce glare reminds me that the word sorry is out of the dictionary, and I sigh. “No.”
CHAPTER 4
BLADE
For a moment I’m at a loss for words. The minute I entered the cabin, I could tell something was wrong. The water was running scalding from the faucet, and yet Delilah was washing the plate on repeat, not even registering the heat burning her skin.
It was as if she was somewhere else entirely, and I’m not insensitive enough to realize a gentle approach was needed in that situation.
It’s as if she is immune to pain, and when she bit her lip and I noticed the blood, she didn’t even flinch.
The priority now is cooling her skin before her hands blister, and the fact she keeps on apologizing is sending me feral.
She doesn’t even know her own name.
I wonder if that’s a side effect of the drugs she was fed. But the doctors checked her over and declared her fit to leave.
Once again, I curse Ryder for putting us in this position. I’m not what she needs right now. His old lady would do a far better job, and if not her, Lou or Bonnie. Not me. The bad-assed, surly motherfucker, who is more intent on drinking himself to oblivion and ending the night inside a willing whore. Notbabysitting a woman with issues, no matter how easy she is on the eye.
My mind races as she sits upright, her hands resting in the cold water, not saying anything at all. It’s as if she’s afraid to speak, and I’m guessing I’m the reason for that.
I’m not exactly approachable, and I cultivated that for a very good reason. I prefer my own company.
With a sigh, I crouch low on my heels and check the temperature of the water.
The heat from her hands has increased it, and I shake my head.
“Come. There’s a stream running behind the cabin. You should use it to cool your skin. It will do a better job and hopefully catch it before they blister.”
Once again, she says nothing, and I hesitate before retrieving the bowl, handing her the cloth.
As I set it to the side, I say gently, “Come. I’ll help you.”
As we leave the cabin, it’s as if I’m treading on eggshells and they are crunching beneath my feet. This woman is broken, and one false move on my part could do more harm than good, and so it’s best if I say nothing at all.
She’s not ready for interrogation; that’s plainly obvious, and so I set my mind to the task at hand first.
The stream behind the cabin gurgles as it trips over rocks and pebbles, the water clear and pure enough to drink. It’s the source of water for the cabin, and the boiler we had installed heats it good enough for showers and hot running water.
It will be some time before she can apply any heat to her hands, and she follows me silently, almost nervously, as we reach the bank of the stream.
“Lie face down and hang your hands in the river. Let the water heal your skin and tell me if it gets unbearable.”
It’s possible she will follow third-degree burns with frostbite if she leaves them in too long, and rather than allow a repeat performance of when she zoned out in the cabin, I am watching over her.
She does as I say, meekly and without question, and I sit beside her attempting to figure out what to say. I’m not trained in nursing a woman with obvious trauma, and for a moment it’s awkward between us.
“Thank you.”
Her soft voice disturbs the tension, and I sigh inside.
“I don’t want thanks or apologies. I’m not sure why we are here, if I’m honest, and if anything, I am not the person you need right now, but here we are. Let’s just make the best of it until Ryder decides why the fuck he sent us here.”
