Page 143 of Savior

“Fine.” He turns toward Luca. “I still say she needs to be in an institution. What you endured is hard on the psyche.”

“We’ll keep it in mind.”

Ardesia and Brynne leave, and I heave an exhale.

“It’s good to see you up, little dove.”

I turn, padding back to the bed and sliding under the covers, my back facing Luca.

His sigh makes guilt wash through me like the pelt of rain in a summer storm.

I wish I could be what he needs right now, but I can’t.

I only need more sleep…

I slowly sipfrom the water cup left on my nightstand, letting it coat my stomach and soothe some of the headache I know is from not eating or drinking.

Luca is still in the chair, but the book is open and splayed on his chest this time.

He’d been readingA Study in Scarletbefore he fell asleep, and he was at a good part, too. I stayed awake for a while, watching his worried features soften as the dreamworld cradled him tightly in its arms and soothed him.

I know this is hard for him, my being mute and bedridden, but I have to work at my pace.

Stabbing Matteo’s corpse was one thing, but losing control of myself felt…scary.

It was like everything I’ve ever dealt with bubbled up to the surface and took over me.

As I watch Luca smirk in his sleep, his eyes fluttering behind his lids, and his brain conjures something peaceful for him to surround himself with momentarily, I wonder how I will ever tell him about Matteo and what happened.

How I came, with thoughts of him touching me, swirling through my brain.

I know it wasn’t my fault. It’s my brain’s way of keeping me sane and alive, but shame has been my bedfellow since it happened.

It’s part of why the weight of the world feels debilitating.

Luca’s eyes open and blink a few times to clear the sleep from them. “Good morning,” he says.

He knows I never speak back, but he still speaks to me—tells me whatever he’s doing as he moves through the routine of caring for me.

“Good morning,” I whisper back, and he tries to hide shock at my uttered words.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks, closing the book with a bookmark and setting it on the side table.

He leans forward, resting his hand on the side of the bed near mine.

He’s close enough for comfort and far away that I don’t feel uncomfortable. He’s always so considerate.

I haven’t even dealt with the fact that he left the church for me.

I can’t fathom it on top of everything else.

I failed in my mission to not become the reason that his life was a dumpster fire.

Add it to the list of things I’ve fucked up around me.

It’s getting quite long.

“I’m alright,” I reply, pushing up to sit, dangling my legs over the edge of the bed.

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