Page 77 of Mortala
Again, she groans.
I turn her head to the left and to the right and that’s when I see her damn hair’s gone.She chopped chunks out of it, shortening it above her shoulders as if she specifically visited a four-year-old’s beauty salon and butchered it with safety sheers.
The massacred strands catch in my fingers when I reach for them—at least the locks are still soft.Carefully, I angle her face toward me and see the hack job reaches the other side too, where pieces vary between chin-length and long enough to scrape her clavicle.
"Why?"My question comes out with a grunt.
I’m half shocked as the other fifty percent is borderline irrationally angry.“Sadie, why the hell would you do this?”
On my feet again, I gather her by the underarms and lift her onto her own uncooperative toes, her exhausted legs failing to hold her up.
Without dropping her, my hips push forward and pin her to the counter to free one of my hands.Towels are around here somewhere, hidden in drawers, a cabinet, something.One after the other, I begin yanking drawers open to find one.Her arms aren't bleeding anymore, thank fuck, but I still need to get her cleaned up to see the extent of the damage.
Spotting one, I slam the drawer closed and tow her to the sink.Trapping her again, I wet the rag all willy-nilly and begin washing the dry red glaze off.
Her left hand's first, no issues—the side with the worst of it.The tattoo she’s so proud of is fucked.She’ll be pissed when she wakes up and notices it’s carved up.What was once a pretty reminder she survived will now stir up these painful memories.Her right arm isn't as bad; instead, there are gouges deep in her fingers.
Rinsing the cloth, Sadie yanks and cracks her elbow on the counter's edge with a little whine when I touch her right hand.
"Doesn't feel too good, does it?At least you're coherent now."
Predictably, she sluggishly becomes combative as the towel licks the blood away to reveal split skin and exposed ligaments on the insides of her knuckles.
"These will need stitches."
"D...don't ne...need anything."
"Oh look.It talks," I snap bitterly.
Suddenly her spine finds a bit of starch and straightens between me and the counter—trying to squirm her little ass free.
"Be still.Donotmake me tell you again."
"Go fu...fuck yourself."
"There you are."I throw back at her, unimpressed."Messed yourself up pretty good."
Sadie pushes at me, using her hips at first.When that doesn't work, she tries with her maimed arms instead.
A lot of good it's going to do her when she doesn't have the strength to blow a damn bubble, let alone shove a man twice her size.
"Stop, I'm almost done."
Yank.
Looking at the ceiling, my hands drop to the countertop, caging her in.I'm about to strangle her.Someone give me strength—the Lord doesn't have enough to lend to stop me from fucking her up.
"Let.Me.Help.You," I grit between clenched teeth.
I reach for her again and she swings.Faster than her, I grab her forearm, step back, spin, and shove her forward over the sink.This time, I wrench the water on high and hold the back of her head under it as she screams and thrashes.
"Stop!"She chokes out the word.
Her pitch pierces my ears but doesn't deter me.
Next to the faucet sits a bottle of liquid dish soap.Snatching it out of the caddy, I tilt it and pour a shit ton all over her greasy hair.My hips push hard into her panty-covered ass, and at the moment she begins to flail and writhe.I scowl when she bucks hard enough to push me back but I slam against her.Instantly, my hand shifts and captures the back of her neck as the other begins to scrub the soap into her filthy mop.
"I said!Let me help!You don't want to cooperate—I'll force you."
