CHAPTER 6 #3
“I’m going to give you my mobile phone, If you feel like you need help, you can hit Rafe’s contact and we’ll work things out, okay?
Don’t let yourself struggle or get hurt.
We’re close if you need us,” Dio told me as he did something on his phone, then handed it to me with the screen unlocked.
“I’ve turned off the code to unlock it, and it’s on Rafe’s contact already if you need us,” he explained, and I nodded and held it tightly.
“I left your rucksack on the bed. I packed the clothes I could find inside it, whilst we were at your apartment.”
“Thank you,” I told them both. I stayed where I was as they both stood and seemed reluctant to walk away. I dropped my eyes to the carpet below me, unable to see the hurt or concerned look on Rafe’s face again, and eventually I heard the bedroom door close softly.
Once they were gone I allowed myself to fall back against the wall, exhaustion washing over me even more strongly than before, and I just fought not to completely lose my shit again.
I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.
Yes, Rafe and Dio seemed to be the men I remembered them to be, which likely meant they were trustworthy too, but I was smarter than to have faith in that and allow my guard to drop.
I had to get myself together and keep my wits about me until I felt surer that I really was safe with them.
Eventually I managed to drag myself to my feet and collect some clean leggings and a tatty hooded sweater from my backpack, which Dio had brought into the room for me.
I also found some clean underwear and a t-shirt that would hopefully keep me warmer and ease the constant shaking in my body.
I didn’t see any of my toiletries or socks, nor were there my shoes, but clothes was a start at least. If I were clothed I could flee if I had to, even without anything on my feet.
There was an en-suite shower room which I stumbled shakily into.
It was clearly a fancy hotel, the whole bathroom decked out in shiny black tiles and gauche gold taps on the highly decorated sink and shower stall.
Even the flush on the toilet was gold and finished with some fancy finial. The place was insane.
I bypassed all of it, not allowing myself to think about how very much I didn’t fit in with anything luxury or expensive any longer, and instead set the shower running as hot as it went.
I couldn’t think about the blood I knew was dried all over me beyond the notion of washing it all away.
I had to stick to my plan to get clean, get dressed, and get my shit together.
I had locked the bathroom door once I entered, but I still threw all of my clothes to the bottom of it after stripping them off, knowing they would slow down anyone trying to open the door, a little at least.
It was an overreaction, I felt that, but this fear wasn’t just about my concerns over Rafe and Dio.
I hadn’t showered calmly since I was twelve years old, and one day turned to rinse my hair in the shower, only to find one of my mother’s asshole boyfriends watching me do so.
He’d managed to unlock the door with a screw driver, which he still held in his hand.
He had leered at me as I fought to cover myself with my hands, refusing to step back from the cubicle so I could step out.
It wasn’t until he stepped closer and tried to touch me that I started screaming for my Mum.
Of course, she had either been passed out drunk, high, or she just didn’t care, but my screams were enough to scare the pervert off.
After that I had never showered in that apartment again.
I used to shower at school until he threw us both out about four months later.
He’d caught my Mum stealing money from him and that had been that.
I had been relieved, but living on the streets wasn’t any safer, and showering in shelters was also fraught with threats.
Ever since, I had found just being in a shower traumatic, and my adrenaline often rose as I rushed through washing as fast as possible.
Showering that time was no different. I grabbed the small bottle of complimentary shower gel and scrubbed it over my body quickly, washing away the blood from my legs, hands, arms, and pretty much all over.
I scrubbed at my face with a flannel terrified my Mum’s blood covered that too, then I wet my hair and washed it through with the bottle of shampoo.
Conditioning was a luxury I would not afford myself, and within less than three minutes I was out of the shower and drying myself off, fighting to ignore my aching body and spinning head.
I didn’t have time to give into the weaknesses.
My shoulder was throbbing from the bottle my Mum had thrown at me days before, and the rest of me felt like I’d been hit by a truck, but I powered through, pulling on my underwear and clean clothes.
I didn’t have a hairbrush for my hair, nor the strength to finger comb it, so instead I just wrapped it up into a messy bun on my head and snapped my hair tie around it.
I didn’t look in the mirror, because I didn’t want to see how terrible I already knew I looked.
I was frantic enough just trying to deal with the way I felt and the situation I found myself in.
Be careful what you wish for, I thought.
For so long all I had wanted was for someone to come in and save me, and I had hoped it would be Rafe, even though I feared him.
Now there he was and I just felt afraid, lost, and so alone all over again.