Page 73 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)

Adrian

Fort Heaven hospitals have showers, not bathtubs. She’s terrified of bathtubs, and she doesn’t trust to be taken care of by the nurse’s hands, so getting myself involved to convince Eva about her conditions might worsen if she left her severe scars unattended.

Minutes later, she surrendered and gotten into the shower, her chest labored in a droned breathing, laboring.

Without being seen by the strict nurses or soulless doctor, I slipped inside and sought Eva, who remained naked, standing in warm water.

And with guidance, I lend her a hand, I scrubbed her, lathered her hair with shampoo and conditioner, as part of demonstration.

Despite my efforts on demonstrating the normal way of cleaning her body and hair, removing stains, oils and dampened scabs.

I spotted her face gotten redder each time my hands slithered and trailed on her frame in softest motion.

Cute. I guess she had gotten used to me teaching her the basics of self-care. Or she acquired of my presence for a calming effect.

I was distraught on what supplies the hospital staff has been providing for her in the shower.

The shower supplies provided from the Fort Heaven Hospital sucks ass, so I brought her one, expensive shower supplies as an alternative.

Redken shampoo and conditioner I purchased from Sephora or Ulta Beauty, I can’t remember what website I clicked on.

I tend to be picky, but I don’t mind spoiling Eva with high price products, even it means driving my rich status to poverty.

Driving my bank account to poverty would be worth it from saving and helping someone I dearly like.

Thankfully, she accepted my offer and lathered the shampoo first, overlaying the conditioner by the ends next, just how I taught her beforehand, before all the shit went down previous days ago. Next, she lathered and scrubbed her body with CeraVe .

After she rinsed her head and body, she stepped out from the shower and dried herself with a towel, trying not to be ashamed with the scars rested on her, only to learn the nurses were cruel and neglectful aiming at Eva.

I hid behind the bathroom door, spying on the nurses—they pulled and dragged her, glaring at her uncooperative state.

As the nurse was aiming to throw the medicinal cream at Eva, I stepped out, forming an alibi.

I grimaced when the blonde-haired nurse tucked her head in shame as she formally addressed me.

What a fucking two-faced bitch.

My eyes scanned her name on a name tag.

Annalise Grover.

Clenching my fists tucked in my pockets, I provided her a smile, a smile that’s so mean she’s clueless and foolish to know a subtle meaning.

My mind initially implemented on burying her soon.

Last but not least, I handed Eva the fuzzy and warm pajamas to wear with a brown shopping bag.

Hospitals get wintry at night, so I got her a pink pajama set.

Hospital gowns appeared more prison-like, I couldn’t stand to see her in a dull-colored uniform, so I splurged my money again on getting her new clothes, both casual and sleep attire, including socks and shoes. Just a few bags will suffice.

I didn’t know what she prefers, but I followed Marceline’s advice as she picked a bunch of clothes for Eva in an extravagant shopping spree.

The townspeople kept pestering us about multiple shopping bags we carried, so I lied to them by saying that it’s for Marceline, pretending that she doesn’t have any more money to spare from her mom.

“ Wow, you’re such a nice boyfriend ,” they said.

“ Lucky bitch !” another shouted.

A few whistled, more inappropriate and irritating.

“ So supportive and attentive to spend all your allowance on your scary gothic girlfriend ,” they teased as if they’re talking to a fucking infant.

Afterwards, I grunted from Marceline strongly elbowing my torso as a result of everybody’s blissful ignorance and nosy commentary.

But thanks to her, Eva’s appearance greatly improved. It took a lot of strength in me to not tackle and kiss her, not to pin her down and not to have my bulge tighten in my pants.

I visited Eva a lot, day and night, without getting seen by anyone I know, gratefully for the hospital staff to not scrutinize me like a security camera.

Until one nurse, a mean-looking tramp was ordering Eva to take off of her pajama shirt, but she hesitated, shameful on her current condition to be stripped naked, but while I was there, the nose said no word or back-handed compliments against Eva.

Weeks went by, and Eva’s recovery was significantly adjusted, despite her age, she’s able to withstand her own.

An astounding result performed—the miracles worked. By miracles, medication and rest, feeding herself with nutrients and water sometimes Marceline and I brought in. Marceline insisted on feeding her junk food while I was feeding her healthier options.

The hospital doctor gave the final information out to me when he announced of Eva’s recovery and her discharge. Before I leave, I gave the doctor a large sum to keep it quiet.

I didn’t care about his words and his nasally voice. I need my Eva and to my place my lips onto hers. This hunger of mine was beastly, and it needs taming. A tranquilizer will do, but nothing beats tranquilizer to an ardent kiss and melded bodies between the bed sheets.

If I was to be put into a hospital room next to hers, I’d sneak out and watch over her as she sleeps, listening to the heart machine. I had no problem of hurting anyone if they decided to lay a finger on her.

My mouth never left her by the time we reached into my room, hurrying my car from receiving a speeding ticket and officers.

The hospital room was becoming unbearable for me the longer I prolonged my stay.

I couldn’t bear to withstand on waiting, and had my hands gripped her on the hips.

My tongue slickly lapped over hers, our breaths caught in and out heavily with thirst, like we were dying, never wanting to depart from her side, and I haven’t been since, like I’ve been confined to an empty space and deprived of all things meaningful and magical.

Freedom knows no bounds, not according to law, freedom is risky and reckless and a chasm, but according to our control, our will and destiny to see a created fate.

Each kisses I peppered, each wet-slick noises I produced from her bloodless lips, I could feel it. A ghostly tune of my voice emerged as I embraced the darkness, cold crisp drowned me, the hotness rushed in my adrenaline, and my quiet prayers left and pressed into my deep kisses.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you, Eva.

Eva, Eva, Eva.

My darling, my angel, my sweet angel, my angel in the attic.

This angel before me, her wings torn to shreds by the selfishness of others, their dismal self-righteous and petty animals worn in human skin costume, but they’re just ballistic animals in the circus. With my love, she could heal and recover; the wings on her back will carry her someday.

I paused in the midst inside my hazy intoxication, addiction of my living fantasy.

Love?

Since when do I know that most common word ever known to mankind? The true meaning behind of a four-lettered word existed before I was born? Love is an expansion to many things and souls, united in one, and love to none.

Love comes in all forms, they said. But where does love come from?

Certainly not dinosaurs especially when I already saw how scaly creatures from Jurassic Park killing and consuming unwarranted and foolish humans.

I know a source of love is born from the works of art, sometimes when people expressed in several body languages and services, ones were labeled and discuss to clean girlies or those popular influencers on their platform or how Saul Loomis from Scream quoted Silence of the Lambs when Jodie Foster’s character recalled her dead father when she was a little girl in a flashback sequence.

Or somebody ordered coffee and junk food to their loved one, all greased up and casual.

Or watched and chat over a three-hour film masterpiece, stepping into a new adventure, a new chapter in our stories to tell when getting older.

Or slow dancing in a twinkling dark, the song in our hearts and empty melodies reached in our ears, closing our heartbeats to one, arm wrapped around skin and bones.

In the dark, I could see her face, Eva’s face and long, brownish-black manes veiling to a stark contrast on her pale emerald eyes and her porcelain skin. Her curtain bangs covered her one eye.

If someone were to ask me what love is…without given a convoluted description to be put down on an essay or a soliloquy, love is…

subjective, love is multifaceted; love is like a layered blanket, shrouded in sweets and sprinkles, blossoming flowers and sunshine, sometimes rotten and decayed underneath, instantly poisoning someone to reaching a limit where the lines became blurry and puzzling.

Love is like a part of the coin on one side, while there’s hatred—the means of balance, like light and darkness, fire and ice, poison and cure, illusion and real.

Love is poison, love is cure.

Love is wit and balance and luck.

A curse and a blessing, I would say—a correct phrase, not a calculation to predetermine. Love is fate; love is survival, where couples and loners shared the quality. Love is food for the soul to persist in survival, and goodness for the heart and faith.