Page 96 of My Dark Divine
Her face softens, yet in an instant, worry replaces it, causing her to frown and her lips to twitch. “Did you tell my dad where I am?”
“No. I turned off my phone. Nobody knows where we are.”
Her attempt at a nod twists into a painful grimace, and she whimpers, burying her face back into the pillow. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry?—”
“It’s okay,” I cut in, hating the way she feels the need to apologize when I’m the one who left her like this. “I’m here, baby girl, and I’m not leaving you.” My hand trembles as I touch her forehead, the heat of her skin sparking another wave of concern within me. “Fuck. You’re burning. It?—”
“It’s my period,” she interrupts, her hand clutching her stomach. “I think it started a day ago.”
Is a rise in body temperature normal during a period? I don’t know much about this, but something tells me it isn’t fucking good. It takes me a moment to notice something covering her legs. When I glance down, I realize her jeans are stained with blood.
My mind is a whirlwind of confusion as I try to figure out what the hell to do. She doesn’t say a word, just continues to cry. Was she even aware that she was lying there like this? “We need to get you into the shower, okay? Can you walk with me to the bathroom?”
“No,” she chokes out. “I don’t feel my legs.”
“I’m going to lift you up, okay?” She stays quiet, and my worry deepens when she closes her eyes as if she’s momentsaway from fading out. “Baby, I need you to stay with me. I’m going to help you. Juststay with me.”
“I’m tired.” A cry, thick with tears, gets stuck in her throat. “I just want tosleep.”
My chest tightens with crushing guilt. I’ve been lost in my addiction, neglecting her, while she’s been lying here, suffering all alone. If I had been there, if I had looked out for her, she wouldn’t be in so much pain.
“We’re going to sleep, but first, we need to get you in the shower,” I say, gently brushing the lock of hair from her cheek. “I promise it’ll be quick, okay?”
With great care, I gather her into my arms and lift her. She doesn’t say a word, just wraps her arms around my neck and rests her cheek against my chest. This small movement gives me some relief as I carry her to the bathroom.
I switch on the lights, and a dim, worn-out bulb flickers to life, casting a weak glow. The shower stall doesn’t look promising, and when I glance at her bare feet, I quickly kick off my sneakers and grab a towel from the shelf, tossing it on the floor.
“I’m going to put you down, okay?” I inform her quietly, and she nods. “Take my shoes. I don’t want you to catch anything in this place.”
She attempts a laugh, but it twists into a raspy, breathless sound. Slowly, I lower her feet onto the towel, and she grips the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it up. I support her body with my hands but keep my gaze averted, having no intention of making her uncomfortable. Once she’s done, she steps into the shower, wearing only my sneakers on her feet. I focus on the faucet, turning it on and adjusting the temperature with my hand.
“I’ll ruin your shoes,” she murmurs, her fingers gripping my arms tightly. She sounds just a little lighter than she didmoments ago, which is enough to ease the first rush of panic inside me.
“Don’t worry about that,” I answer, finally settling on a comfortable temperature and adjusting the showerhead above her. The water flows over her head, and she blinks her eyes shut. “Do you want me to hold you, baby? Are you okay with it?”
“Yeah.” The absence of her hands on my arms sends a hollow ache through my body as she brings them up to wash her face. “I’m okay with it.”
I pick up the bottle of shower gel, surprised that a place like this even has it. Then, I step into the shower stall next to her, my socks quickly soaking through, discomfort radiating up my legs. But I push it aside—I don’t care about myself right now.
I assist her in washing away the blood, sweat, and grime, careful not to cause any more discomfort. She’s still in pain, but I can tell that with each passing second, it’s becoming a little more bearable for her.
“I’m sorry for everything I said,” she starts again, and I shake my head, but pause when her tiny hands grip my arm, halting me. “I don’t want... I don’t want you to be disgusted by me.”
“I already forgot everything,” I lie. The truth is, her words still sting, the wound fresh and bleeding, and now, standing here beside her, it feels as if it’s exposed to a chilling wind. But I just want to block this out and move forward, and her repeated apologies only make me uneasy. “And I’m not disgusted by you.”
“I’m not talking about this,” she croaks, bowing her head to avoid my gaze.
“I know. I’m not disgusted by you in any way. I’ll never be. You’re my baby girl, remember?”
She lifts her head slowly, her red-rimmed eyes shimmering with impending tears. She wraps her arms around herself and bends slightly, pressing her forehead against my chest. “Fuck. It hurts. I can’t?—”
I press her closer, giving her the reassurance she needs. The water dripping from every inch of her body soaks into my clothes as I trace a calming circle on her back and place a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s okay. You’re doing great, baby,” I murmur, and she lets out a shuddered breath, pulling herself even closer to me as if she wants to dissolve into my body. “We’re almost done. You’ll feel better after this. I promise.”
We stand like this for a moment before the tangled mess of her hair yields to my gentle touch as I wash it, threading my fingers through the soft strands with the care that soothes us both. She relaxes under my touch, the tension easing, and I find a small measure of peace in the simple act of tending to her needs.
I’ve found her. That’s all that matters now.
Her suffering is a wound that needs healing, and I’m determined to be the one to mend it. My sole focus is on guiding her out of the pit she’s fallen into.
