Page 112 of Bound By Blood and Lies

If I am, how can I get back to her? My eyes look past the person standing in front of me to a body on the floor. Blood is all around them as Roman stands on his haunches, stroking her face. She’s not alone. Okay, that’s good.

She’s not alone.

But I’m still drowning.

CHAPTER 31

FAE

It’s been two days and I can still feel her blood all over me. I turn the heat up higher on the shower and let the burn try to cleanse my skin. The steam is thick enough to blur the edges of the bathroom but it still doesn’t matter. No matter how long I stand here or how hard I scrub, the blood won’t come off. My skin burns beneath my hands, already tender from where I’ve gone over the same places repeatedly, and I tilt my head back into the stream of water to try and drown out the noises in my brain. I drag the flannel across my arms before moving to my shoulders and then between my fingers like if I press hard enough, if I just keep going, eventually I’ll finally be clean.

I scrub harder.

The flannel drags over my forearm until the sting sharpens into something that feels almost like relief. The harshness of it feels like a deserved punishment rather than this suffocating numbness. I cling to that, to the burn, to the ache, to anything that feels like it matches what’s sitting inside my chest.

She’s gone.

I grit my teeth and scrub harder. If I keep moving, keep focusing, I won’t have to think about it.

“No,” I whisper under my breath, shaking my head. “No, she’s not—” My voice breaks and I swallow it down hard.

This is my fault.

My hand falters and the flannel drops. Fuck. The guilt claws at me as I drop my forehead to the cool tiles. I’m trying to be strong and be there for Roman, but I can barely even look at him. How do you look at the man whose mum you murdered?

You can’t.

My stomach flutters and tears spring into my eyes as I gently splay my fingers across my bump. It’s like they know. Every time I start to get out of control, they move and remind me why we’re here. The issue is everything I touch gets ruined. Everyone I love dies or gets hurt.

I’m cursed.

My throat tightens painfully as I bend down to pick up the cloth and slowly drag it across my belly. It’s the only place I feel clean; the only place blood didn’t touch me. Most people would say the fabric protected it, but I know… I know Fiona did. She wanted to keep my baby pure because that’s who Fiona is.

Was.

Fuck.

I should have stopped him. I should have done something. I should have?—

“Tinkerbell.”

Roman’s voice cuts through the noise of the shower, rougher than it should be. I haven’t heard it sound normal in days.

I don’t answer. I don’t stop. The shower is the one place I break down. The one time I allow myself this. If I don’t, everything else will crumble around me.

“Tink,” he says softer this time, and I grit my teeth as I keep scrubbing.

I hear the shower door open. The soft click as it shuts behind him, but I keep my back to him, keep moving, dragging the cloth over my skin like it’s the only thing that matters.

“Stop,” he says quietly.

His body presses against mine, and the heat of him cuts through the water that’s been burning my skin for the last hour. His chest slides against my back, damp skin on damp skin, and the contact is so real that it pulls me out of my own head just enough to feel it properly. The water runs over both of us, tracing the lines where we meet.

“Stop.” His breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine.

“I can’t,” I whisper as my hand keeps moving and my grip tightens around the cloth.

“Little one, it has gone,” he says, and there’s something tight about his voice, like he’s holding whatever he really wants to say back with force. “There’s nothing there.”