Page 75 of Breaking Ophelia
She meets my gaze, and there’s no hate in it now. Just a hollow, exhausted curiosity.
“Why are you being nice all of a sudden? I know what you said about The Board, but you could also have fucked me in my sleep and you didn’t.”
I don’t answer right away.
I stand, walk to the window, and tug the blackout curtain open a few inches. The sun is just crawling over the edge of the trees. Everything outside is blue and frozen, perfect.
“Because. I’m not cruel just to be cruel. I’m cruel to teach a lesson and once it’s taught, I can worship the ground you walk on. As I will do everyday henceforth.”
She laughs again, but this time it’s real. “God. HENCEFORTH? You’re so fucking pretentious.”
“You ain’t lying.”
She pulls the covers tighter. Her hands have stopped shaking.
“Do you remember everything you did?” she asks, voice quiet.
“Yes.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“Yes.”
“Because of tradition.”
I nod.
She runs her tongue over the cut on her lip, winces. “You’re fucked in the head.”
“I’m fucked over you. And yes, a bit in the head.”
She goes silent, staring at the tray like it might explain me if she looks long enough.
I leave her there, walk into the bathroom, and run the sink until the water is hot enough to scald. I scrub my hands, digging under each fingernail until I’m sure there’s nothing left under them. My shower was quick, one I took in five minutes after she’d fallen asleep. I didn’t want to leave her too long, so I’d been as fast as humanly possible. The soap is unscented, the towel white. I dry my hands, fold the towel, and wipe the faucet for water drops.
When I come out, she’s asleep again, coffee cup tipped on its side. The eggs are gone. The toast is crumbs on the sheets.
I clean up, careful not to wake her.
I check the bandages, rewrap the worst of them with fresh gauze. I do it slow, methodical, never making a sound.
I sit on the floor at the foot of the bed, knees to my chest, and watch her breathe.
Every inhale is a victory.
Every exhale is a warning.
The sun climbs higher, flooding the room with white.
I let her sleep, but I never stop watching.
She wakes two hours later. I know because the rhythm of her breathing changes, quickens. She opens her eyes, meets mine at the end of the bed.
She doesn’t look scared anymore.
She looks interested.
I wait for her to speak first.
