Page 94 of Unspoken Lies

“You told me stories, didn’t you?” I ask tentatively.

His cheeks heat, but he nods regardless. “We told you that we wanted a chance to show you we could be different for you,” he says. “I think a part of us lied, because we’re the same. You bring out the part of us that Lili used to. It’s the one that is willing to do really fucked up shit to keep you safe. The issue is that sometimes it doesn’t work completely because you’re not unscathed.”

“I don’t think you can protect me from everything in a place like this,” I allow, humming under my breath as he begins to shampoo my hair. My scalp feels itchy and gross now that I’m actually paying attention. I can also feel the unevenness of the length of my hair because of how it’s touching my face and body.

God, please let karma exist in the afterlife. Reminding myself it’s just hair is difficult, and tears run down along with the water from the shower as he washes my hair.

“I swear I’ll do the best that I can to fix it,” Elijah says, swallowing hard as he gazes at me.

He sees too much and I already feel like my emotions are fried. The injustices of the situation are sinking in, and I don’t know how to process his kindness. It’s like he’s Elijah, but better. I don’t know what to do with Kings who are human.

In my mind, they’re bigger than life, angry and cruel. I suppose that would make them gods, wouldn’t it.

“There’s no conditioner in here,” he mutters, putting up the handheld shower to grab the bar of soap. He moves over me with his soapy hands, his fingers rubbing at the layer of dirt on my skin. “This is unbelievable…”

“The doctor said it was easier to keep me sedated with a feeding tube and an IV for fluids,” I say, solely for his ears as he washes me.

Elijah is very careful as he runs soap over my breasts, his tongue between his teeth as if trying to think of me as just a body. After everything, I appreciate it, but my hips still buck as he washes between my thighs and his knuckle brushes my clit accidentally.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mutters. “There’s too much soap and I can’t see.”

My lips curl in a private smile because it’s slightly funny to see him so flustered. I know he’s seen a naked female bodybefore, I think I make him nervous. This entire situation feels surreal.

“You’re fine,” I say, enjoying the way he finds me smiling as he reaches for the detachable shower head.

“Do you think so?” he teases as he moves the water over my skin thoroughly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say with a smirk as he finishes washing me.

My knees are starting to shake the longer I stand, and Elijah notices.

“You’re going to need to do some strength training exercises,” he observes as he turns off the water and grabs a towel.

“I’m a mess,” I grumble, watching as he rubs the towel over my skin. It’s itchy and industrial grade, which means it quickly turns my skin red.

“No, this place is,” he growls, trying to pat me dry instead. “I have clothes for you. They were brought in.”

“By my husband?” I ask, still amused by the idea.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, wincing as he helps me out of the shower. “Let me grab a chair so I can run up front to get your clothes. This place is a disaster, and I don’t want you to fall while you’re waiting for me.”

A minute later, I’m sitting in a chair while wrapped in a damp towel, when the doctor comes to find me.

“I thought you’d be dressed by now,” he complains. “Where is the orderly?”

“He went to find me clothes I could leave in,” I explain, my voice straining from speaking.

“Oh,” he says, blinking owlishly at me. “I’ll run through your post care then with you.”

Incredulous and uncomfortable with him standing there while I’m essentially naked, I listen to him speak to me about theimportance of finding a psychiatrist and filling my medication immediately. He goes on and on until Elijah rushes back in.

“Doctor Simmons,” he says, making sure the doctor hears him.

“Oh, you’re back. Good luck, Miss Thompson. You’re going to need it,” he says callously, his eyes moving over my body.

I’ve been more focused on him than the mirror, so when I turn away from him to get away from his gaze, my lips part in shock. Even wet, it’s a train wreck because the shaggy, shorn layers are terrible.

My face is pale, my cheeks hollow and deep from lack of food. The very skin on my body looks as if it’s hanging off of me.