Chapter 44
GIANNA
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need and want him with the same passion he took me with.
And I’d be lying if I said I did. The truth is somewhere in between, I guess.
The physical and the mental on completely opposite sides, so far apart they’re not even tugging on each other, neither trying to win.
Or maybe I just lost my mind.
After it was done and we regained control of our bodies he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom.
We’ve been standing under a warm shower for I don’t know how long.
He’s washed my hair and my whole body, caressing me gently as he goes.
And I’m just standing here, staring at the flowers on the yellowed shower curtain, thinking about lying.
Because I’d be lying if I said his touch doesn’t feel good and welcome. But I’d also be lying if I said I wanted him to touch me.
Cool water is mixing with the warm more and more, the jets as they hit me making me shiver.
Sometime between taking care of me, he also washed himself, so he turns off the shower and opens the curtain.
He gets out first then offers me his hand to help me out.
Then he dries me with a towel that looks much softer than it actually is, water droplets collected on his skin, dripping onto the black and white tiles of the bathroom.
Maybe I should fight him, stop him from touching me.
But I’d be lying if I said I wanted to do that.
And lying if I said I didn’t.
He escorts me to bed once he’s done. The sky outside the window is pitch black, like there’s nothing but pure darkness outside this house. No stars, no moon, just endless night.
But the room is softly illuminated by yellow lights that cast long shadows, which remind me of storybooks and long autumn evenings. It’s also nice and warm in this room, especially as he lays me in bed and covers me with the duvet, which is actually as soft as it looks.
“I’ll bring you some food soon,” he says.
And just like that, the serene scene that almost had me falling asleep is broken. The sound of his voice did it. While he was silent, I could pretend this was just a pleasant fantasy, a dream I used to want but don’t anymore.
I sit up in bed and throw the duvet off. “I want to go back to the hospital. I want to be with my sister.”
He’s by the wardrobe, putting on one of his steel grey suits. He turns to look at me, and that’s not exactly a hard no on his face. But close.
“We’ll go back as soon as we can.”
He had to practically carry me out of the hospital today, because I refused to leave just so I can be locked up again in this prison, driving myself crazy worrying about my sister.
I didn’t scream, because I didn’t want to get banned from the hospital.
But I fought. And I might start screaming now, if he tells me no again.
“When’s that?”
I join him by the closet, rummaging through the clothes meant for me.
Black items are scarce, he’d ripped the last of the clean black pants and the only black shirt left is a tee with a white skull on it.
Not appropriate at all for wearing to the hospital where I want my sister to get better very soon.
I find a pair of dark jeans and a green top with batwing sleeves. It’ll have to do.
“Where’d you find all these clothes, anyway?” I ask even though he hasn’t responded to my earlier question.
“They belonged to my sister,” he says. “She had left them at my cousin’s house while she was staying there with his family. So I grabbed them, since I figured you’d need something to wear.”
“While I was in captivity, you mean?” I snap. “How thoughtful of you.”
He just shakes his head and goes back to dressing himself. I get dressed too.
“Your sister isn’t very particular about her clothes, is she?”
He shrugs. “She was hopelessly addicted to heroin, her whole world had just fallen apart, and she had to leave everyone she loved behind when she moved to New York. I don’t think shopping and fashion were top of her list.”
I shouldn’t feel bad for a woman I’d never met, or the fact that this particular memory is clearly painful for him to relive, judging by the slight shaking in his voice. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.
“Is she… is she better now?” I ask.
He’s done dressing and so am I.
“I think so, yeah,” he says and grins. “You can ask her yourself when you meet her.”
“That’s OK. I have no need to meet your family.”
I’m sorry for the shadow that crosses his face, but I’m also not.
“I have to go speak to Ferro now,” he says and walks to the door.
“I want to go be with my sister.”
He shrugs. “We’ll make it happen.”
And then he’s gone, the sound of the door locking echoing in the silence he’s left behind. And I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss the heat he brings with his presence. My world is so cold now. But it’s even colder when he’s not near me.
And I’d be lying if I said I knew how to make sense of that. Or accept it.