Page 35 of Do It For Me

I press the pillow to my mouth and scream.

My chest burns with pain.

“Two more. Just two.”

Two. Two things.

“A ch-ch-chair and a dressing… table.”

“Now tell me four things you hear.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“My m-mum screaming,” I sob. “My father—”

“Outside, amore. Listen outside. Ignore your house.”

I stand up and look out of the window. Air hits my face, and I take a deep breath.

“Leaves m-m-moving because of the w-wind… A cricket… dogs barking and… cars.”

“Now three things you can touch.”

I close my eyes. “My s-s-skin… the window’s glass… the curtain.”

“Now, two things you can smell... is there anything?”

I look around, then check my dressing table, opening its drawers. “I h-h-h-have two scented candles.”

“How do they smell?”

“Like watermelon… and coconut.”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything you can taste?”

“H-how many things?”

“Just one, sweetheart.”

I look around again. When I find a glass, I sigh, a bit more relaxed. “Water.”

He scoffs. “Water doesn’t taste like anything.”

“It does.”

I lie down on top of my bedsheets, hugging a pillow. I picture his face beside me—his dark, soft gaze, his reassuring smile, his blue eyes, his black hair… Is this wrong?

“Really?”

My eyes close on their own, and I start speaking slower.

“Y-yes. W-w-water from a bottle tastes different than the o-o-one from the sink. Sparkling w-w-water is saltier than the others, and it’s my favourite.”

“We’ll have to test your theory,” he says. I swear he’s smiling. “I’ll buy every kind of water, and I’ll make you try each one.”