Page 102 of Into The Light
She shudders, and the shudder becomes a shiver. "Cold all of a sudden."
I shift toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll run you a bath."
"No!" She cries out, fear and desperation making her cling to my arm. "Don't leave me."
"Never," I promise.
I scoop her up and carry her into the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub with her on my lap, clinging to my neck, shivering and whimpering. Twist on the hot water and plug the drain. I sit there and hold her as the tub fills with steaming water. Once it's nearing full, I add cold water bit by bit until it's steaming hot but not scalding.
"Noelle, sweetheart," I whisper, the term of endearment emerging unbidden, rising from the depths of my love for her. "Let's get you in the bath, okay?"
She nods.
Doesn't move, doesn't let go of me. "Cold."
"Water's piping hot, okay?" I touch her face, turn it so she's looking at me—her eyes are tear-wet, not seeing me but that alley, most likely. "Gonna help you out of your clothes so we can get you clean, okay?"
She nods, straightening on my lap so I can peel Riley's now stiff-with-blood shirt off. A thin red line mars her throat where Duane's knife pressed; killing rage bubbles up inside me, but I squash it down viciously, lock it away in the dungeon of my soul. She doesn’t need my rage anymore. She needs my touch, my love.
There's no sexual excitement in me at the sight of her bare chest—not in this moment. Nor as I help her out of her socks and sneakers, jeans and underwear. I move to help her into the tub, but she clings to me desperately, clawing at me to get closer.
"No!” she whimpers. "Need you. Please." The last word is hissed, shaking.
I strip off my underwear and then cradle her against my chest as I sink gingerly into the hot water with her. She hisses as thewater rises around us, her body stiff and tense, muscles shaking, every fiber of her being trembling.
"Got you," I whisper. "You're safe, now."
For several minutes, she just clings to me, shaking and shivering and trembling, an occasional sob escaping past her gritted teeth.
Slowly, slowly, she begins to relax as the hot water tinges pink. Her breathing settles back to normal from the ragged panting.
I rest my head against the back of the tub, marveling that this thing is big enough to contain not just my giant ass but both of us. I hold her, trying hard as hell to project calm, peace, and safety.
The water cools.
I pull the plug and let it drain around us, and then twist on the water, adjusting the taps until it's hot but not too hot. Between the tub and the wall—a gap of eighteen inches or so—is a marble pedestal with a bowl on top, which contains a plethora of mysterious girly bath shit. Plastic-wrapped balls, tubs of flaky white shit, tubes of goop, bottles of goo, and squares of colorful soap.
I grab one of the balls and look at it—it's wrapped in crinkly plastic with a circular sticker on it; pastel pink with cursive writing, the sticker says: "Rest, Relax and Rejuvenate," across the center, and "Bath Bombs by Bathing Beauties" beneath it.
I don't have a clue what a bath bomb is, but I figure she could do with some rest, relaxation, and rejuvenation right about now, so I unwrap it as the hot water refills.
I toss the bath bomb into the water at my feet. For a second, nothing happens. And then suddenly the water is fizzing wildly, frothing with crazy, colorful, pungent, foam that swirls throughout the water.
"The fuck?" I mumble.
Noelle giggles against my chest. "Bath bomb, silly."
"What's it do?"
"Smells good, mostly. They're all different. They have different minerals and stuff that do different things." Her voice sounds more normal, now.
“Is it okay that I used it?" I ask.
She nods. "Of course. I like it."
"Good."
A long silence.
