My phone beeps, and I push away to see it lit up on the bathroom counter. A part of me wants to smash it with a hammer. I’m tired of all the incoming texts and videos. It beeps again, and I reluctantly turn the water off and get out, grabbing a towel off the hook.
I wrap it around myself when I hear Eve scream from the bedroom.
Shoving the bathroom door open, I enter just in time to see her sitting up in bed. She’s wide-eyed and gasping for breath. “Eve?” I rush over to her. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”
Her green eyes are frantic, and I gently push her hair from her face. “I’m—” She swallows.
“What? You’re what?” I pull the covers off her to glance at her thigh. It’s still wrapped, and there isn’t any blood, reassuring me that her fresh stitches are holding.
“I’m going…” She places her hand over her mouth, and I yank her from the bed and rush her to the bathroom, knowing exactly what she’s trying to tell me. Falling to her knees, she leans forward and gets sick. “I’m…sorry…” she says before she dry heaves.
“You’re okay.” I hold her hair, crouching behind her to rub her bare back with my free hand. “It’s okay. Let it out, Eve.”
She gets sick once more andthen sits back.
I flush the toilet and grab my phone off the counter. I message Devin, asking if the drugs will upset her stomach. He responds immediately.
They shouldn’t. Is she feeling ill? I can give her something if that’s the case.
I begin to respond when I see her getting to her shaky legs. Putting my cell down, I walk over to her, but she takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. Her watery eyes are on the floor, and it makes me sick to think about what woke her up. I spent six months with Isabella here at Carnage while she trained us. Eve spent more than half her life in hell. First Carnage and then Dollhouse.
What did she dream about? Was it Evan? Did he hurt her? She blocked out so much for so long that now there’s no telling how much she’ll start to remember.
Running a hand through my hair, I notice she has vomit in hers. I wasn’t fast enough to pull it back for her. “Would you like a bath?” I ask, not wanting to point it out to her.
She nods, and I shut the bathroom door and turn on the water to the tub. Once I get it to temperature, I send a quick text to Jessie and then reach my hand out to her. When she just stares at it, I speak. “It’s okay, angel. Let me help you.” The last thing I want is for her to fall and hurt herself.
Eve allows me to assist her into the tub, and she pulls her knees to her chest, laying her forehead on them.
“You can’t get your stitches wet just yet, so I have to let it drain.”
She doesn’t show me any sign that she’s acknowledged what I said.
I grab a cup, fill it from the faucet, and let it run down over her hair and back.
She sits facing forward, softly rocking back and forth while I shampoo and condition her hair. Once I’m done, I lower myself to my knees and place my forearms on the side of the tub to look at her. “Feel better?” I ask.
Licking her lips, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Her green eyes stare straight ahead at the wall. I place the back of my hand on her forehead, down over her cheek and to her neck. I can’t tell if she has a fever or not. She feels warm, but that could be from the hot water.
“Jessie is bringing you some soup.”
She drops her eyes to her legs. “I’m sorry,” she repeats and adds, “For saying you’re like them. You’re nothing like them.”
“Who isthem, Eve?” I question, wanting to keep her talking to me even though I have an idea of what she meant. Every man in her life has drugged her. Now that includes me. This was different from when I challenged her at her house. When she was going to drug me to run.
“Our fathers,” she answers softly.
I open my mouth, but she goes on. “She told me you were a good boy, but I didn’t believe her. No one who survives hell comes out holy.” Her eyes glance at my nun tattoo when she adds, “We’re all damned.”
She’s talking in riddles, which makes me wonder if Devin gave her too much. “Who told you that?”
Her eyes meet mine and my frown deepens. She looks tired…off in another world, but her answer makes my blood run cold. “Your mother.”
“My mother?” I repeat.
