Page 16 of Saving Barrette

“No, I will,” I insist.

As I walk down the hall, I hesitate, my steps heavier, as if I’m trying to walk through mud. The kind that sticks and holds you in place. Maybe she doesn’t want me to bother her, but I have to know she’s okay. She hasn’t said anything to me today, other than holding my hand as we left the hospital.

I stand in the hall, my head pressed to the wall, waiting. “What the fuck do I do?” I mumble to myself. I hear a noise coming from the bathroom, a sob, and I know the sound. I press my ear to the door, wait, and it gets louder. She’s crying.

“Do you need anything?” I ask, my voice a shaking whisper. I have no idea how to comfort her, but I know how to be there for someone. I know how to let them vent and cry and hate everything in life. I know what it’s like to wish for death to ease the pain and through all that, I think, no, I know I can be there for her. Maybe it’s me trying to make up for lost time, but I do it without question.

The door creaks open and takes my breath with it. She’s standing there, the shower running behind her, completely naked, her clothes a pile at her feet and she’s sobbing. “I hate them,” she cries, staring at me like I’m the answer, the one she needs. “Why did they do this?”

For a moment, a split second, I’m not at all sure what to do. I think I shouldn’t be in here, seeing her like this, but then again, I don’t want anyone else with her. The bruises are darker, the bite marks more pronounced and evident. The marks on her neck, red and swollen. And her face, her fucking face, it’s bad. That’s the only way I can describe it. Surrounding her beautiful blue eyes are deep purple bruises. I have no words for what was done to her other than horrific.

Steam rolls through the bathroom and I reach for her, unsure what else to do and catch her when she falls into my arms. Closing the door, I hold onto her as tightly as I can and I kiss the side of her face, because I think it’s what she wants. The moment my lips touch her skin, her sobs come harder, faster, and it’s as if she’s going to hyperventilate if I don’t do something to stop it.

Maybe I shouldn’t have done that? My mind races for something to say or do to make this better for her. But what do I do?

“It’s okay,” I soothe, running my hands gently around her back, unable to stop my body from trembling. I’m shaking so bad, I’m not sure who’s more of a mess in those moments, her or me. Taking her hand, I place it on my chest so she can hear my breathing and heartbeat. “Breathe with me. Slow deep breaths.”

It takes her a minute, but she does, her hand gripping my shirt in a fist. “Don’t let go of me,” she pleads, her words broken and desperate.

“I promise I won’t.” I let her cry, because I don’t know what else to do. The need to protect her and make sure she knows my intentions are only pure takeover, and I don’t look at her body. I keep my stare on the shower.

“The warm water might help.”

She doesn’t move and clings to my body, every inch of her pressed against me as her arms wrap tightly around my neck. She cries, harder, every ounce of her frustration pouring from her.

With slow steps, I open the shower door. “Let’s get you in here.”

She won’t let go of me. So I step inside there with her, fully clothed and hold her under the spray. Pulling back, I cup her cheeks carefully and make her look at me, my clothes clinging to my body. Her blue eyes lock on mine. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“I got you, okay.” My jaw clenches, my breathing increasing. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll stay with you as long as you need me. Whatever you need.”

Her crying slows and I think she understands that I’m here for her. Even if that means getting in a shower fully clothed because she doesn’t want to be alone.

Cadence knocks on the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Make her leave,” Barrette whispers, laying her head on my chest.

I stroke her wet hair and kiss the top of her head. I know I haven’t been in her life in years, but everything seems so natural around her, the actions, the love, the need to protect her, all of it.

Clearing my throat, I yell, “We’re fine. Why don’t you take off?”

“B, are you sure?”

Barrette lifts her head from my chest. “Yes,” she tells her, raising her voice over the sounds of the shower.

“Okay, I’ll call later to check in on you.”

“Thank you,” she says, but she’s looking at me when she says it.

I help her wash her body, my eyes never straying anywhere but her face and shoulders. I’m not a creep and though, yeah, the guy in me wants to look, she’s been through something so horrible it makes me sick to my stomach to think about it.

When she’s done, I stare at my clothes and think about how awkward this is now because I have nothing dry here. There’s no way I’m leaving her to change. I did that yesterday and when I returned to the hospital, they’d had to sedate her again.

Wrapping a robe around her body, she stares at me. The white in the robe makes the marks on her more pronounced. “My dad has some clothes you can wear.”

Smiling, I strip off my shirt and jeans and leave them on the floor of the shower. She hands me a towel. “I can get them if you want.”

“Okay, or I’m sure I can find them if you want to get changed.” Panic rises in her face, a flush to her cheeks and widening to her eyes. “I won’t leave. I’m just going to change.”

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