Chapter 14 #2
Army crawling across the floor, I drag myself into the bathroom, just barely managing to make it to the toilet before throwing up at the sight of myself.
Purple splotches so dark they’re almost black coat my torso.
Broken capillaries under my skin have painted me blue in several spots as well.
My face is ghostly pale, my eyes are bloodshot, my skin is sticky, and I can’t stop shivering.
I’m afraid to step into the shower for fear of more pain, but I need to clean the dried blood, and what I assume is cum, off my thighs and wherever else it’s staining my flesh.
My head is pounding, but my memory is intact up until I blacked out.
At this point, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.
My face is the only place on my body free of marks, except for a bruise near my temple, mostly hidden by my hair, and a cut where my glasses dug in.
I look barely better than death and feel that way, too.
The apartment is quiet, so I’m hoping Derek has gone somewhere, but that hope is proven wrong when the bathroom door opens.
I know I should’ve run while I had the chance, but I need every trace of last night erased from my skin as soon as possible, and to be honest, even making it to the bathroom felt like too big a task.
Staying silent, I focus on gently rubbing soap across my battered body. I’m moving slowly, not only due to pain, but I’m dizzy and still extremely nauseated. I make an attempt at washing my hair, but it hurts too fucking much to raise my arms, so I give up on that quickly.
“Your fucktoy wanted to know if you were okay,” Derek says, his voice echoing through the bathroom as the clink of my cell phone hitting the counter fills the air a second later.
“I don’t have one of those,” I answer stoically, clinging to what I said last night. As soon as I get out of this shower, I’m packing the one bag of shit I own, and I’m gone. Even if I have to fucking crawl.
“I told him you were fine, and that he was nothing to you, and if he contacted you again, you were going to claim sexual harassment. I also emailed your bosses at Ricochet, putting in your two-week notice at Summit, and I told them you and Talon were not to work any of the same shifts ever again. I also texted your loser friends from the theater and let them know your understudy would have to take over tonight because you’re under the weather. You’re welcome.”
I rip the shower curtain back, and pain blasts through my side.
“Why the fuck…would you do…that?” I wheeze, unable to catch my breath as I grip my side.
Derek shrugs. “I figured the rest of those nerds shouldn’t suffer for your lapse in judgment, and to be honest, I didn’t think you were going to be coherent anytime today. Things might have gotten a little out of hand last night.”
Although I’m pissed about that too, that’s not what I’m talking about.
“I meant why…would you say that to my boss…at Summit?”
“You didn’t honestly believe I’d let you continue seeing that guy every day, did you?” Derek asks, like he makes all the sense in the world.
“Derek, how…am I gonna…make money…without a job?” And Talon hasn’t done anything wrong, I want to shout just to have his name on my tongue. I also want to shout about a thousand expletives, but every word takes so much effort, and every breath is precious.
“You’ll get a different one. Just be happy I’m letting you work your notice so your reference doesn’t suck. Oh, and also, I brought your car home earlier this morning, but it now has four flat tires. So, I’ll be taking you and picking you up from now on.”
Despair sweeps through my body once again.
“Why?” I ask, dropping to my knees in the tub, unable to stand any longer. “You don’t…even like me. Why do you care…if I stay or go?”
“Like you? Zeke, I fucking love you. How do you not see that?” I don’t answer because the question is rhetorical, and because Derek is fucking psychotic.
How do I not see that? Is he serious? “Now, finish up and get dressed. Rebecca also texted, and I told her we’d be there in thirty…
FYI, you’re running late because of a flat tire,” he says with a smirk, clearly proud of himself.
When I stand up, I’m even dizzier.
Shutting the shower off, I fight tunnel vision the entire time I get dressed. I’m so fucking tired and sore, and the chills are getting worse.
“Here, Buttercup,” Derek says, placing four aspirin on the counter next to a glass of water as I enter the kitchen. “Take these.”
I’ll do anything to dull the pain at this point, so with a shaking hand, I bring the pills to my mouth and drain the water.
“Can I…have my phone back?” I ask, fighting oblivion.
“No. I don’t think you’ll be needing it.”
“What if…I need to call you…from work?” I ask, hoping that if I feed his insanity, he’ll take it easier on me.
“They have landlines, sweetcheeks. Use one of those.”
When we get to the employee lot, Derek practically pulls me across the console in his truck, smashing my ribs against it.
“Ow! Fuck!” I hiss, grabbing my side. There’s no way at least one of them isn’t broken.
“Look, next time, don’t make me so angry, okay?” he says, brushing my hair back and kissing my forehead before moving to my mouth. Not caring what comes next, I bite down on his lip hard enough to make it bleed and spit his DNA on his floorboard.
He pulls back and slaps me across the face.
“You stupid fucking cunt! That hurt!”
Oh, did it? I think as my ribs throb and normal breaths continue to evade me.
“I’ll be back at three,” Derek mumbles, pressing a finger to his bleeding lip. “You’re only working the lunch shift today. Don’t keep me waiting.”
I say nothing as I struggle to open the heavy truck door.
Moving slowly toward the gondola, my steps take so much more effort than usual despite not having as many layers on as I normally do.
I knew there was no way I had the energy or the strength to struggle with long-johns today, but the wind is cutting right through my dress pants, making my chills worse.
I barely notice the other people on the gondola or the view that I once loved so much because I’m concentrating on doing my best to pull myself together.
A quick glance in the reflective metal corners of the gondola car shows that thankfully, the smack in the truck was only enough to pinken my cheek, not bruise it, and honestly?
I could use the color. The higher we climb, the harder it gets to breathe—which I really can’t afford right now—and I think it’s affecting my vision as well as my thought process.
I want to put together a plan for leaving, but I’m having trouble focusing on anything other than staying awake.
I let everyone exit the gondola before me, and I trip on my way out since the box never stops moving. I think I’ve righted myself until I face plant in the snow.
Summit is directly at the top of the gondola, so I see my host stand, although it’s blurry. Three figures are behind it, but I can’t tell who they are.
Why is my vision blurry now? And why am I so freaking tired?
My best guess is a concussion, but thankfully, I won’t be doing anything strenuous today.
It feels like forever before I reach the stand, and fuck, I’m exhausted.
Suddenly, my ears begin ringing. I think I’m just going to sit down for a second.
“ZEKE!” someone screams my name, but I’m just right here. There’s no need to yell; he’ll scare the guests.
Fatigue tries to pull me under, but I swim to the surface because it sounds a little like Talon. I want to be strong and tell him I’m all right, just tired, but it’s too hard.
I can’t tell if he’s trying to hug me or what, but he squeezes my ribs, and I hear a strangled cry as it tears from my throat. Embarrassingly, it’s followed by a whimper, but I can’t help it.
I hate that he’s seeing me like this…but I’m glad he’s here.
It’s the only thought I have the energy for before my world fades to black.