Page 15 of Save Me

CHAPTER 8

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Iwince ashe pulls out of me, my tears having dried long ago and my eyes still focused on the bedroom door.

He says something but I don’t hear it, his voice sounding muffled compared to the sound of my shallow breathing and the pounding of my heart. I close my eyes and take a breath before turning my head in his direction. He’s standing beside me zipping up his pants, and I can’t bring myself to look at his face as I lay here wrapped in a blanket of embarrassment and shame.

“What?” I mutter, my throat dry as I force the word from my lips quietly.

“I said that would have been better if my face didn’t feel like it was on fire the entire time.” He scoffs as he steps over me, his heavy footsteps making their way to the bedroom door.

The bright lights from the hallway stream into the room as he opens the door, not bothering to close it behind him as he steps into the living area. I hear him walk to the kitchen, the sound of a beer being opened echoes in the silence that surrounds me. My body starts to tremble as his footsteps resume, my eyes still glued to the doorway, and I feel a small flicker of relief as he walks past the room and the sound of the TV fills the apartment moments later.

I roll onto my side slowly, wincing as I push myself up, my hands pressing against the wood floor. I pause as I notice the blood under my fingernails, wondering how that’s the onlyevidence of the struggle that just transpired, all I have to show for the fight I tried to put up.

My body doesn’t feel like my own. My movements are slow and jerky as I stand up and my eyes slowly assess the room around me. I don’t know why but I expect it to look different after what happened, darker or tainted, but besides the open window and the blood on the floor nothing else is out of place, and for some reason I feel a flash of anger bubble inside of me.

I walk towards the bedroom door tentatively, my steps silent beneath me, but I don’t see or hear anything except the sound of some sports game playing on the TV. I finally reach the door and push it shut as quietly as I can, but the click from the handle still sounds uncomfortably loud. I wait as the seconds tick by, holding my breath and wondering if Tanner will notice. But he’s either uninterested or unaware of the door shutting, and I finally let myself breathe again.

I move back through my room towards the bathroom, stooping to pick up my pants that lay discarded on the floor before walking straight to the garbage can in the bathroom and shoving them inside. I take off my shirt and underwear, putting them in the garbage as well, unable to look at the clothes I was wearing and unable to stomach ever putting them on again.

Something in my chest caves, my stomach starts to roll, and I barely make it to the toilet before I start to retch, the bile burning my throat as I heave into the toilet, my body pressed against the cold porcelain.

I close the lid to the toilet and flush it with shaky hands before wiping my mouth. I reach into the shower, turning the handle until a stream of water cascades down from above, before grabbing the bar of soap from beside the sink and stepping under the spray.

The frigid water soaks my hair as my trembling hands lather the soap until a thick layer of bubbles form. I work the suds intomy hair before rinsing and repeating it again, as my thoughts swirl in my head about everything and yet nothing at all.

I rinse the last of the soap from my hair before lathering the bar against my skin.

I inhale sharply as I bring my hands to my face. The touch of my fingers feels like a battering ram against the swollen skin as I wash the dried blood from around my nose. I run the floral-scented soap over my body and face repeatedly, the blood-tinged water below me eventually turning clear as the soft scent slowly fills the shower. I’m desperate to feel nothing but the suds against my skin, desperate to erase the feeling of him on me and the smell of him from between my legs.

I rub the soap harder, not pausing as I try to wash off the dirt that only I can feel dancing across my body. I stand there for ages, ignoring the near-freezing temperature as my hands continuously run the soap over my skin, and my nails scratch at the invisible grime. But no matter how hard I scrub, how hard I scratch, I don’t feel remotely clean.

“Fuck.” I sob under my breath, the tears that dried up returning full force as a sound I don’t recognize escapes my lips.

My tears mix with the frigid water pouring over me while I scrub every inch of my body until my skin is red and raw, my breath reduced to pants as my hands tremble so hard I can barely hold onto the slippery soap.

This isn’t real. This cannot be real.

I close my eyes and rub my hands over my face in frustration and defeat before pressing my hands against the shower wall, letting the water run over my back until it feels numb and I feel like I’m on the verge of collapsing.

I turn off the water and grab a towel from the rack on the wall, wrapping it around me tightly as I walk quietly out of the bathroom. My skin prickles at the feeling, raw from the scratch of my nails, but I don’t care. For some reason the pain isreassuring, taking me away from the thoughts in my head, even if just for a moment.

I search for new clothes in the chest of drawers, pulling out a pair of gym shorts and an old Harvard sweater, and let my towel drop before getting dressed quickly. I can’t keep my hands from shaking, my index finger digging into my thumb, the sensation distracting me from the turmoil within my body and mind.

I walk to the blue accent chair as if on autopilot, trying to drag it across the floor as quietly as possible, and push it up against the door. It’s not going to do much, but at least it will wake me up if he tries to get back into the room.

I walk to the bed, pulling the sheets back before climbing underneath them, wrapping myself in them tightly as I curl up in a ball. I stare at the bedroom floor, as if a piece of my soul is still there, dying in front of me. I close my eyes and pull the blankets up higher, wishing it was Jax curled around me and wishing that I could be anywhere but here.

CHAPTER 9

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Ashiver coursingthrough my body wakes me, and I open my eyes to the bright light of the morning sun, the cold breeze still floating through the open window. For a few blissful moments everything is quiet, my mind as still as the room around me, my thoughts only focused on how chilled I am. But as I wake up, pulling the duvet tightly around me to ward off the cold, the events of last night flash through my head, a slideshow I would much rather forget.

I take a shaky breath, pulling the covers up even higher, trying to create a cocoon I can hide in, a place that is safe from everything going on around me. The side of my hand brushes against my face as I bring the sheets around me and I wince in response, the sharp pain flashes through my body and makes me dizzy. I tentatively brush my fingers over my nose and cheeks, the skin hot under my touch. It’s definitely swollen and tender and I wonder if it’s broken from how badly it hurts.

This isn’t real. This cannot be real.

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