Chapter Fifteen
Oblivious
It takes several minutes for me to realize that I’m alone. Mastyx left me there, lying on the floor, broken.
Defeated.
I push my arms straight, slide my knees beneath me and stagger to a stand.
My entire body feels as though it’s been run over by a steamroller, and hot soup is dripping on my floor from between my legs.
In that moment, I realize that all evidence of Mastyx being there, besides what’s currently vacating my body, is gone.
There is no char mark on my ceiling, no melted carpet on my floor.
Everything appears normal. I turn to face my mirror and to my surprise, the damage to my body is minimal. There is a little ring of redness around my neck, but it’s not burned, and except for a few blistering handprints around my breasts and midsection, the rest of me is intact.
He listened. Despite everything and how badly he hurt me after I insulted him, he did what I asked.
He left no marks that couldn’t be hidden with clothes.
I gather some pajamas and shuffle to the bathroom.
Taking a shower sounds painful, so I plug the tub, crank the water to hot, and sprinkle in a cup of Epsom salts.
I swirl my hand beneath the water, watching the crystals slowly dissipate before sinking my screaming body inside.
Tears escape my closed eyes, and I whimper softly.
? ? ?
A loud pounding startles me awake. The chilled water drifts just under my nose, my face nearly submerged.
“Tessa?”
It’s my mom. I glance at the knob, thanking God I remembered to lock it. “Yeah.” I frantically stand, grab my towel, and dry myself quickly before stuffing my feet into pajama pants and a t-shirt, my adrenaline pumping.
“Did you fall asleep in there?”
“Only for a sec. I’ll be right out.” I turn my head side to side in the medicine cabinet mirror. Most of the redness around my neck is gone, and there are no visible signs of skin damage.
When I unlock and open the bathroom door, my mom is standing there waiting for me. “You, okay?”
I nod. “I woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I figured I’d take a bath.”
She brushes a wet lock behind my ear. “Okay. Well, get some rest.” Her eyes drift to the floor near the door. “And clean up whatever you spilled there. I slipped in it when I came in.”
Bile rises in my throat when I peer down at her bare feet. I fight the urge to gag outwardly as she walks away, closing the door behind her.
Mastyx’s cum shines on the floor, swiped in an arched pattern, compliments of my mom’s sole. My mouth waters, and I rush to the toilet, slamming the lid open before hurling inside. Fucking gross.
The water and vomit rush into the pipes as I flush and let the lid drop.
My eyes water, and I wipe them and my mouth on the towel I left on the floor before pulling myself to a shaky stand.
My reflection gazes back at me in the mirror above the sink, and I barely recognize the person staring back at me.
Fuck. I’ll need to sleep for days to get rid of the luggage I’m carrying beneath my orbs. I splash some cold water on my face, brush my teeth, gargle too much mouthwash, and crawl under the covers.
? ? ?
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I hear my mom say before the sun suddenly beams into my room as she tosses my curtains open.
“Mom.” I cover my eyes with my arm. “What are you doing?”
The blanket launches off my body. “First off, I asked you to clean whatever you spilled on the floor; now it’s sticky, and once again, I stepped in it.”
My eyes spring open, and a lump crowds my throat, making it hard to swallow. She stepped into it again.
“And second, it’s freaking two in the afternoon, you can’t sleep all day.”
I roll onto my side and sit up slowly. My head wobbles a little, and the room spins. I drop back on my pillow. “Argh, Mom, I don’t feel good.”
Her hand slaps across my forehead, and the wrinkle in her forehead deepens. “Well, shit. You feel hot.” She pulls the covers back over me. “Lie back down. I’ll make you some soup.”
I probably feel hot because fucking Mastyx scorched me from the inside out.
Her bare feet swerve around the sticky goop on my floor before disappearing into the hall. My eyes roll back in my head as I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
My dad pops his head in. “Hey, kiddo.”
“You can come in,” I say just above a whisper, my throat feeling scratchy.
He holds up his hand. “Oh, no thanks, you can keep your plague to yourself.”
My mom wedges between him and the doorframe, drops a bottle of cleaner on the floor with a roll of paper towels, and sprays Lysol around the room. I cough continuously as she empties what appears to be the entire can into my room and bathroom.
“Mom, you’re being ridiculous,” I whine, the words choking out of my mouth.
“Can’t have whatever you have spreading.”
“Okay, I get it, but do you have to use so much disinfectant? It looks like a smoke bomb went off in here.” I cover my mouth and nose with my comforter.
She sets the empty canister on my dresser, unlocks my bedroom window, and pulls it open. “There. This will help.”
“Help what? Disinfect the outdoors?”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Tessa. You’re ill, and your father and I can’t afford to be sick.
” She squeezes the tips of my toes through the blanket.
“Soups on the stove. I’ll bring it back when it’s ready.
” She stoops down to the floor, sprays a large amount of cleaner on Mastyx’s man juices and scrubs them up with a paper towel, before shooing my dad out of the doorway.
My computer pings from across the room, and I ignore it. Probably spam.
Just as I start to doze off, mom swoops into the room with a tray in hand.
My computer pings again.
“You know,” she says, setting the tray on the nightstand beside me, shifting my lamp out of the way. “That’s been going off all morning. You should probably check it.”
“It has?”
“Yes. Your father and I can hear it all the way downstairs. You know sound carries in this house.” She gestures with her hand. “Come on, sit up. Let’s get some chicken noodle soup in you.”
I sit up and slide back, leaning my head against the headboard. “Will you check for me. I don’t think I have the energy to get up.”
“Of course. As soon as you take a bite of soup.” She holds a full spoon in front of my lips.
“Mom, I’m not a child. I can do it myself.”
She raises her eyebrows at me and widens her eyes, staring at me expectantly. I open my mouth and let her shovel the hot soup inside. It singes the roof of my mouth and burns my esophagus the whole way down. “Mom, it’s freaking hot.”
“You’d bitch louder if it were cold now, wouldn’t you?” She places the bowl on my lap. “Eat.”
I cup one hand around the bowl and hold the spoon in the other. “I will. Now will you please check?”
An annoyed huff escapes her lips as she turns away from me, leans over my computer and wiggles the mouse, waking the screen. A few clicks later, and she gasps. “Wow.”
“What?” I sit up taller and place the bowl on the tray beside me.
“Well, it looks like some of your creepy art has sold.”
“Really?” I peel the blanket off me and sit up. My body drifts side to side, and my muscles scream, making me grimace. “How many?”
She turns and looks at me with raised brows. “All of them.”