Maeve
Ilunga (n) a person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third
The alarm clock on my nightstand blares a cover of "Pink Pony Girl" by Lauren Babic. I jerk awake, a jolt of adrenaline rolling through me. I glance over, bleary-eyed. It’s eight a.m. I had slept in.
Ineversleep in.
I groan and reach for my phone. Six texts from Nessa already.
Sorry for last night
Are you Ignoring me?
Hello???
You know what, I’m not sorry at all, actually.
I hope you see who he really is.
Seriously, stop ignoringme.
I’mnotin the mood for this shit.
I toss my phone onto the bed beside me and crank the volume of the song. I stretch my arms over my head, my body shuddering, then I lower them, pressing my fists into the bed on either side of me. A dull ache pounds in my right hand.
Damn it. I look down at my knuckles. They’re bruised and tender, but I smile as I remember punching Ronan last night. The look on his face had been priceless. He was expecting the needy, helpless teen I once was. I briefly wonder how his jaw is feeling this morning.
Standing up, I raise my arms above my head, stretching again. My back pops as I lean side to side. I let out a deep breath and pad across the wooden floor toward my bathroom, the boards cold under my bare feet.
I turn the handle on the shower almost all the way hot, and the steam billows out after a few seconds. I strip my clothes off and drop them onto the marble floor, eager to step into the hot water. My muscles are tight, my body tense.
Lorcan has been working me harder lately, but I’d brought it on myself. Hell, I’daskedhim to, butdamn, he didn’t hold back. Sparring is one thing, but when it comes to hand-to-hand, it’s like I’m fighting two people at once. I know why Lorcan didn’t hold back. Well, he didn’t hold back like he had in my early teens. He knows I want to be ready for anything. Ineedto be ready for anything.
I hold my face under the water, letting it soak my hair.
Lather.Why do we need a united front?
Rinse. Why are the Costas back?
Repeat.What would they want?
I reach for the pink loofah hanging from the caddy on the shower wall. It looks out of place amongst the rest of my things. I drizzle my favorite vanilla body wash on it and start scrubbing head to toe. Then, I shave everything. It’s a habit, mainly. Definitelynotin anticipation of something happening tonight with Callum. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I turn the water off and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body and another around my hair. I step over to the lighted mirror over my sink and swipe the steam away with my palm.
I stand looking at myself, looking at the little white tattoos on my skin, so translucent they are almost invisible. I’d gotten them for my eighteenth birthday, and for a while, I’d been worried my father would see. But, so far, so good. Guess he’d have to pay closer attention to me forthatto happen.
I turn my head, looking at the one behind my ear. It’s my favorite. Small. Just one word in a delicate cursive script.
Always
It was something Callum often said to me when I thanked him or when we discussed our future together. It was his promise to me. A promise to be faithful, to be close by, to be what I needed him to be. A wave of sadness washes over me.Alwaysturned out to be a promise that Callum couldn’t keep. I brace my hands on the sink, letting my headfall forward, the towel around my hair resting against the mirror. Why should I expect things to be any different now?
I glance down at my left hand, at the small white tally marks on the underside of my wrist. I’d gotten it the same day asAlways. I’d started with three tally marks, and added a new one each year since. Now, there are nine.
I shake my head, the towel squeaking against the mirror, and glance over at my right wrist.
nepenthe
