Page 43

“Lori, we’re really going to have to discuss this when she’s gone,” the doctor complains, untying my hands. “I don’t trust you with her, grab the orderly who pulled her out of the isolation chamber.”

Rubbing my wrists as I struggle to keep my lungs from seizing into another cough, I watch as she scurries off. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I guess I’ll chalk it to one of the many things I don’t remember.

“I really get to go home?” I ask. I don’t believe it at all. “How long have I been here?”

“Almost a month,” he says with a shrug at my wide eyes. “It was easier to keep you on a feeding tube and heavily medicated than deal with you, so that’s what we’ve been doing.”

“Easier?” I whisper, completely confused as to how it would be.

Although my mind is clearer than it has been in forever, it’s still racing with a million thoughts. The outside world has just been chugging along while I’ve been here, and the ones I love have to be losing their minds.

While I don’t know who this supposed husband is, I’m not as concerned about that as I am about getting the fuck out of this place. The neglect is clear on my dry and dirty skin, as well as how sore my muscles are from not being able to move. How have they been handling my bladder for so long?

“Oh yes,” the doctor says with a nod, continuing without knowing the turmoil of my thoughts.

“You killed one of my nurses, Rachel. I believe you need to be institutionalized for the rest of your life, but my professional opinions have been overridden. We remembered to insert a catheter for your bladder needs after you had yet another accident, though.”

I wasn’t aware of my body, yet he acts as if this was my fault. What the fuck kind of place is this?

I’m afraid to sit up because I don’t want to come off as aggressive, but my bladder is screaming at me. An orderly walks in without announcing himself and doesn’t look at me, and my eyes narrow at his floppy dirty blonde hair. Who is that?

“I’ll let you take care of her. She says she needs to use the restroom. Her husband is here, it’s completely up to you if you want to get her washed up. I don’t really care after all the trouble she's caused us,” the doctor says, grabbing a file as he moves away.

Brown eyes flick over to him as he nods at the doctor who is already walking out the door.

“Elijah?” I whisper, wincing as I sit up. “I’m so confused.”

“It’s been a shit month,” he mutters, walking over to scoop me into his arms. “Good, at least they took the catheter out. I wouldn’t have known how to handle that.”

“You’re working here…” I say, trailing off as he walks me into the bathroom.

“Were your wrists tied?” he asks, ignoring my words as he looks at how they’re discolored.

“That’s how I woke up,” I admit.

“Fuck. I’m going to help you, don’t complain, please,” he says. “I’ve seen a lot while working here. To answer one of the many questions that you might have, Theo got me a job to watch out for you. I didn’t do a great job, unfortunately.”

I try not to feel embarrassed as he helps me sit on the toilet. I’m pretty sure I wore more clothes when I first got here, but now I’m in a long nightgown and nothing else. Not even panties. If they were trying to make me feel inferior, they’re on the right track.

Elijah gazes at the wall above my head to give me a semblance of privacy as I clean up and then helps me stand. He keeps his body between me and the mirror, and my eyes narrow at him.

“How terrible is my hair?” I ask.

“The nurse lost her ever loving mind and hacked it. I wasn’t there, but I did hear about it as you were dragged off.

They haven’t bothered to fix it, but I can try to even it out if you want until you can get to a professional,” he says, looking miserable.

“While it’s not great, I can honestly say that your hair has been worse.

I don’t trust how much you’re weaving on your feet, baby. Can I help you shower?”

Baby?

“I don’t understand why you’re helping me at all,” I say, raising my hands so he can pull off the nightgown. His arm wraps around my waist, holding me against his side as he leans forward to turn the water on and adjust it.

“I bet you don’t,” he sighs. “I have a penchant for blending into the shadows, and that’s what you needed. Lift your leg, please.”

Doing as he asks, I step into the shower and hold onto the bar as he picks up the spray attachment and runs it over my hair and body. The water feels good after God knows how long of not having a shower.

It also appears as if they’re just leaving Elijah with me alone. I’d much rather have him helping me than anyone else in this place. I know that sounds odd, but I’m beginning to realize that he’s the voice that I kept hearing while I was drugged.

“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 body before, 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 the importance 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.

“Did he really talk your ear off the entire time…” Elijah is in my face a second later, his fingers holding my chin as he tips it up so I’ll only see him.

“The mirror doesn’t define you. Ignore it.

You just need protein, real food, and someone to take care of you. We’re going to do that. Don’t look.”

“We?” I breathe, eyes wide as I gaze at his brown eyes. It’s the part I hang onto right now, completely overwhelmed.

“Yeah,” he says. “Buckle up, because finding any time alone is about to be really difficult. You’re going to have a lot of people riding your cute little ass. Let’s get you the fuck out of here.”

Elijah helps me get dressed, and I notice the way each thing belongs to me. The bra, panties, long sleeved shirt, pants, and boots. I have no idea what day it is, or the month. Is it March? When in March?

I can feel my anxiety beginning to rear its ugly face, whereas before for some reason, it was there but I was still calm somehow. There are too many unknowns outside of here, and I feel as if I’m about to get a crash course on it all.

“Please don’t stab me,” Elijah teases as he lifts the scissors he has and begins to fix my hair the best he can.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I breathe as I watch his tongue make an appearance again between his teeth as he works. “I prefer other methods of torture that keep you alive.”

His lips twitch as he chuckles under his breath, and the hair continues to fall to the floor.

“I’m going to finish this shift, and then I’m done,” he says, his lips barely moving. “I’d like nothing more than to burn this place to the fucking ground.”

“Take photos for me,” I say before I can stop myself.

Tucking the scissors away he nods. “It’s as good as it gets for now,” he says. “Let’s get you out of here.”

My hair is sitting at my shoulders, but it’s a lot more even than before. Standing, I shut my eyes against the dizziness that suddenly hits me.

“Breathe through it,” he says in my ears. “I don’t want them to use this against your leaving. I need you to walk out on your own two feet. I’m supposed to give you meds, and I’m absolutely not doing that.”

“Such a rebel,” I say, blinking my eyes open.

“That’s it,” he says with pride, nodding. “Arm through mine just in case, and let’s get you the fuck out of here.”

Trusting him, I thread my arm through his. There’s butterflies in my stomach as we walk, but my footsteps get stronger with every step.

Please world, treat me better than you have.