Chapter 33
Dante
I FORGED A DOCTOR’S NOTE to get Serenity out of work.
Her dad, who also happened to be her boss, texted to ask if she was okay after getting emailed the note, but that one message was all he sent.
Some fucking concerned parent he was. His lack of care for his only daughter served to piss me off, but not as much as Bradley’s constant texts about being sorry for hurting her, asking for her to talk to him, requesting that she tell him where she was while sick, and all his other bullshit.
But that fury coursing through me was fine.
Being angry at her dad and that fucker was better than feeling suffocated while watching my human yearn for death.
With the issue of her work taken care of, which would allow her to recuperate in peace, I looked for something else that I could do for her while waiting on her to wake up.
That was when I decided it was finally time to pay back what was due to her abuser.
The boiling venom for myself and everyone else who’d hurt her redirected itself to an outward target.
I stepped through shadows, and even though I didn’t know where Bradley was right now, I knew where he lived. That was as good a place to start as any. I appeared in his apartment, and as luck would have it, he was there.
The bastard sat on his couch, watching some shitty action movie while throwing back a glass of vodka. He unsteadily refilled the cup to drink more.
The sight of him had air rushing in and out of me hard.
Within the hidden world of shadows, I stormed across the room and slapped the drink out of his hand.
The glass didn’t even have time to hit the wall and shatter before I grabbed the worthless sack of shit by the throat.
A deep roar rattled my chest as I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder like a weightless rag.
He landed with an agonized croak, his pale face shuttering in pain.
I was sure he was confused and alarmed over the unseen force throwing him around his living room.
No amount of drunkenness could explain it, but I didn’t care.
I wanted him to fucking pay for everything he’d done to her.
I wanted him to suffer for ever thinking he could put his hands on her.
“I warned you not to touch her,” I growled, even though he couldn’t hear me from within my shadows.
He was unmoving where he twitched and whimpered on his back, the wind having been knocked out of him. I stood over him and relished in the sight. I glanced at both of his hands, picturing them around Serenity’s throat. I pictured these filthy hands hitting her hard enough to bruise or draw blood.
These hands would never fucking touch her again.
Snarling, I raised my foot and brought it down hard on his right hand.
A scream pierced the air as bone crunched beneath my heel.
His body flopped to the side half-heartedly, just in time for him to puke.
I didn’t give him time to recover before I rounded him.
Raising my foot again, I brought it down equally hard on his other hand.
He screamed once more, but this one was cut off short as his eyes rolled back into his head.
He passed out cold, his face drooping into the pool of his own vomit.
“I hope you drown in your own bile,” I told his unconscious body. “I hope you fucking rot here. Even if you somehow pull through this, you’ll never again hurt her.”
With his hands broken, I hoped that would keep him too busy to reach out to Serenity. I hoped it would give her space away from anyone who could set her back.
Satisfied with the sorry state Bradley was now in, I returned to my home. Serenity hadn’t moved from where she slept, and I tried not to let that get to me.
“She’s here,” I told myself. “She’s safe.”
I blew out a shaky breath and sat back in my chair beside the bed.
Despite having no interest in nonfiction whatsoever, I grabbed the book I’d checked out from the library on how to support a loved one who dealt with depression.
While she slept in my bed with a body worn down by concealed pain, I sat right beside her and read.
It was while I was reading that she opened her eyes again. The gray had dulled, and the sorrowful gaze seemed to peer through me. I bit back my own agony and reached out to take her hand, which rested near her face on the pillow. I swallowed hard and squeezed her hand lightly.
“I’m here, Serenity,” I whispered to her. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
For a moment, those eyes moved and met mine. For a moment, I saw my girl coming back to the surface, reaching up through the dark she swam in. But then her gaze slowly fell until they were void of anything again. Just like before, they closed, and she returned to the peace of sleep.
“Fuck,” I hissed, my voice strained with rising emotion as I dropped my head to the mattress.
Being patient was important for those who struggled. They oftentimes needed time to sort through everything they were feeling, and even still might not necessarily be able to define what was wrong or what they were experiencing.
And it wasn’t like I could take those feelings away.
Thousands of lifetimes on this earth had taught me that.
I couldn’t make her feel something she didn’t, but I could endure the storm by her side, reminding her that the sun was on the other side of those clouds.
She needed time to find the strength and ability to talk, and pressuring her or forcing her to do those things on my own timeline would only make things worse.
So I took a deep breath and sat back up, watching her sleep. Sleep meant she was still here. Sleep meant she was still alive. Sleep meant she was still holding on. So I’d hold on, too. For her, I’d hold on forever.
DAY FOUR.
Day four, Serenity’s lashes fluttered open. I held my breath and watched as she blinked blearily a few times before finally looking up at me.
I squeezed her hand, which I hadn’t let go of since taking it. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Dante,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak from lack of use.
I ran my free hand over the top of her head. “You’ve been out for a few days. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
I’d thought Perseus was a moron for giving his own energy to Harper when she’d been too lost to eat properly, but I’d found myself doing the same thing.
As soon as day two had hit, I’d taken matters into my own hands and had started funneling my energy into Serenity.
I couldn’t let her waste away, so giving her life through me was the least I could do until she was able to function again.
She seemed to consider my question for a moment before slowly shaking her head. While it wasn’t much, the response was something. It was more than she’d been able to do in days, and that was progress. I didn’t care how fucking small it was. A step was a step.
“That’s fine,” I told her.
In truth, I wanted her to eat. I wanted to get something into her stomach that would make her feel better, but I didn’t want to rush her.
She’d just gotten up after days of fighting something dark and hard.
She needed to recover slowly, not all at once.
So food could come after she resettled into her own skin instead of her mind, and I had a good idea of how to get that process started.
I looked at her oily silver hair. While I could snap away any oils or filth from her body, that would be easy. Easy meant less effort, and I wanted to do more for her. I wanted her to feel cared for in her dark times. I wanted her to see that she wasn’t alone in her suffering.
I gently pulled the comforter back. She didn’t say anything as I scooped her up and carried her into my bathroom. Her cold, clammy skin and drooping head hinted at how drained she was, even after all that sleep. My heart twisted. I didn’t let it discourage me, though.
After sitting her by the door, I filled the clawfoot tub with warm water and added some lavender scented soap to create bubbles.
The book I’d been reading mentioned that certain essential oils could be beneficial for those suffering negative mental health episodes, and while I had no idea if that truly held any weight, I decided there was no harm in trying.
Nothing was too small or too big when it came to being there for my girl.
Testing the water with my hand, I decided it was the perfect temperature.
I stripped Serenity and placed her nude body in the water.
Her eyes slipped closed, and while defeat naturally sprung up at the sight, I realized she was merely settling into the feeling of the warm water and bubbles.
She breathed in softly and sank a little deeper in the tub.
I swallowed hard as hope climbed my throat.
I placed my hand on her back and asked, “Do you care to lean back so I can wet your hair?”
She leaned into my palm, and I guided her lower so that just her hair dipped under the surface of the water. While I held her in the one hand, I used the other to run my fingers through her curls, making sure they were thoroughly wet and tangle free.
Once she sat back up, I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and slowly washed her hair, taking care to thoroughly devote time to the ends, middle, and scalp.
I took just as much time rinsing and applying the conditioner.
Every bit of her deserved to feel treasured, because she was so fucking special to me, and I’d done a terrible job of showing her that up until now.
“Does that feel good?” I asked her as I rinsed the conditioner.
“Mhmm,” she answered as I poured water down her tilted back head.
The response was yet another step forward—a small, yet wonderful step.
I grabbed a wash rag and lathered the lavender scented soap into it before wiping down every bit of her—arms, legs, fingers, toes, neck, everything. The urge to pause on her left wrist was hard to ignore, but I somehow gritted my teeth and continued, unflinching.
The memory of her holding the glass shard to that place choked me. But I shoved down the terrible reminder that I’d nearly lost her and told myself that she wasn’t gone.
She was right here in my arms.
She was safe with me.
There wasn’t an inch of skin I didn’t shower in attention, and with each pass of the wet, soapy cloth, the tension in Serenity’s body seemed to ease a fraction. The tightness in her shoulders relaxed, and the strain in her face softened until she watched me with a somber yet present expression.
I finished bathing her and met that gaze, toying with the ends of her long hair that floated in the water. “Are you ready to get out, or would you like to soak some more?”
She looked at the water and the mostly gone bubbles before answering, “I’m done.”
I smiled softly at the response, because it was her first real response in four fucking days. I plucked her out of the water and dried her off before wrapping her in my burgundy robe. The silk hung loose on her, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Let’s go eat something now,” I said, taking her hand to lead her from the bathroom.
She didn’t respond to that, but she followed me. I helped her downstairs and to the kitchen. She sat quietly at the kitchen island while I moved about the room to make chicken and rice, something I hoped would be easy on her empty stomach while also something of substance.
I desperately wanted to talk to her, but I could tell she wasn’t ready to do that, yet. It killed me that she was hurting in silence, but I was determined to give that silence a space to become vocalized. I wasn’t the night sky for nothing. She needed safety, and I wanted to give that to her.
We sat side by side while we ate, and I watched her from the corner of my eye. I didn’t want her to feel like some specimen under a microscope, being studied and dissected. That would just make her retreat into herself again, so I subtly kept an eye on her as she took small bites of her food.
“Thank you.”
Her small voice made my heart race. Warmth showered over me, making me smile. “No need to thank me, baby. I’m here for you. No matter what you need.”
Again, a small step in the right direction.
Just a bit more, I told myself. Just a bit more until my star comes back.