I nod, getting up from the table, and I return to his bedroom. I sink down onto the bed on my stomach with a sigh, and even though my heartbeat is fast at the idea of letting him tend to the kitchen by himself, I force myself to breathe through it.
He’d tell me if he minded.
He would.
I keep telling myself that, right up until the point when I hear him coming into the room. I lift my head so I can look at him, and he doesn’t look like he’s gotten angry in the past few minutes. He’s holding a small plastic container, and he comes to my side.
Ilya pets my hair gently. “I need you to remove your clothes, Mishka. So I can put this cream on the wounds.”
I’m not sure he’d gotten a good look at them earlier, and I’m hesitant to strip the rest of the way and show them off. It’s only going to upset him.
But then, what’s he going to do?
He can’t make Adam any deader.
I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or cry at the thought.
I slowly peel off my underwear, then shift so I can remove my shirt, too. All the while, I keep myself from looking at Ilya. I don’t know if I can handle his anger right now.
Ilya hisses sharply when he sees the full extent of the damage. I tense when he places a finger on my back.
“I’m sorry I was too slow,” Ilya says quietly.
I shake my head. “You weren’t too slow,” I tell him.
I still don’t know the depth of Adam’s intentions, but I don’t think that Ilya was wrong that if it hadn’t beenthistime that he’d hurt me beyond repair, the next time might have been.
Ilya guides me down onto my stomach, and my stomach flutters at being in this vulnerable position again. When Ilya moves and his shadow falls on the pillow next to me, I tense up all over again.
Just Ilya, I remind myself. He isn’t going to hurt me.
My breathing still comes far too fast.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Ilya says as he opens the container.
I nod, my cheek resting against the pillows as I look in the opposite direction.
I still can’t handle seeing his face.
A few seconds later, I feel the cool cream on one of the welts on my ass, and it startles me enough to where I tense up completely.
“Mishka?” he asks, sounding alarmed.
I shake my head. “Just cold,” I try to reassure him. “It’s fine.” When he starts to rub it into the welts, that’s lessfine, but it’s not so bad that I have to make him stop until he gets to the deeper wounds on my back. I think the belt must have broken the skin in a few places, because those do make me hiss in pain.
“I’ll call the doctor for you,” Ilya says, but he doesn’t stop rubbing the cream into my skin. “You’ll take it easy for the next few days.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” I say in a hurry, shaking my head as I finally look back at him. “Really, Ilya, it’s okay. I’m not that bad off.” I could’ve been. If he hadn’t arrived, what would’ve happened then?
But there’s no sense in dwelling on it. He had arrived, and it hadn’t been too late, and now I’m here — safe — with him.
Ilya doesn’t argue with me. I slowly relax into his touch, especially when the cream starts to do what it’s meant to do and numbs the pain in my back.
I don’t think I realized how much I was hurting until then.
For some reason, that makes my eyes well up all over again.
This is stupid. The pain is gone. I’m safe.
