Page 35 of Do It For Me
I press the pillow to my mouth and scream.
My chest burns with pain.
“Two more. Just two.”
Two. Two things.
“A ch-ch-chair and a dressing… table.”
“Now tell me four things you hear.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“My m-mum screaming,” I sob. “My father—”
“Outside, amore. Listen outside. Ignore your house.”
I stand up and look out of the window. Air hits my face, and I take a deep breath.
“Leaves m-m-moving because of the w-wind… A cricket… dogs barking and… cars.”
“Now three things you can touch.”
I close my eyes. “My s-s-skin… the window’s glass… the curtain.”
“Now, two things you can smell... is there anything?”
I look around, then check my dressing table, opening its drawers. “I h-h-h-have two scented candles.”
“How do they smell?”
“Like watermelon… and coconut.”
“Do you like them?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you can taste?”
“H-how many things?”
“Just one, sweetheart.”
I look around again. When I find a glass, I sigh, a bit more relaxed. “Water.”
He scoffs. “Water doesn’t taste like anything.”
“It does.”
I lie down on top of my bedsheets, hugging a pillow. I picture his face beside me—his dark, soft gaze, his reassuring smile, his blue eyes, his black hair… Is this wrong?
“Really?”
My eyes close on their own, and I start speaking slower.
“Y-yes. W-w-water from a bottle tastes different than the o-o-one from the sink. Sparkling w-w-water is saltier than the others, and it’s my favourite.”
“We’ll have to test your theory,” he says. I swear he’s smiling. “I’ll buy every kind of water, and I’ll make you try each one.”
