Dakota
I half regretted not letting Sir carry me into the house. I hurt. Everywhere. The pain meds barely touched the ache that danced across every part of my body. But I gritted my teeth and made my way into the house despite the way my body wanted to give up on making it even one more step.
“Wait for me to help you get a shower, then I think a nap is in order.”
I nodded, eyeing the stairs. I was tempted to skip the shower, but I wasn’t a fan of the hospital smell. And I had refused to shower there. Mostly because I knew Sir couldn’t help me. No, the nurse would have been there to stand watch if not the doctor himself.
I didn’t like that man. He was cold and asked too many questions. Like, if Sir was hurting me at all. Or if I didn’t feel safe. Or if Sir had told me to tell lies when in fact, Sir told me to say the exact truth.
The doctor didn’t believe a single thing I said, no matter how much I tried to get him to understand. At least April and Sir hadn’t left me alone with that man again.
As Sir headed to the kitchen, setting the bag of stuff that the hospital had given me to bring home, I slowly made my way to the stairs.
At the bottom, I debated if I could climb them. I knew Sir would be more than happy to offer to help, but surely he’d get tired of having to watch my every step. It was bad enough that I sometimes couldn’t pee without him watching over me.
At least he was an excellent liar to the nurse when she walked in while I was using the bathroom.
I had to be an embarrassment to Sir, even if he didn’t say it.
Slowly, holding onto the railing as tightly as I could, I lifted one foot, then the other. By the time I made it halfway, Sir was beside me.
“I said to wait, boy.”
I glanced up at him, then lifted a shoulder.
Turning back to the steps, I took each one at a snail’s pace. My butt hurt, the stitches pulling at the swollen skin with each movement. And my ribs hurt.
Overall, it was the pain I could endure. It wasn’t too bad as long as Sir was beside me.
Sir stayed beside me as I forced my legs to move. From the steps, towards the bedroom, and in turn, his bathroom.
“You don’t have to push yourself so hard, Dakota.”
Moving like this wasn’t hurting me any. He must have seen the answer on my face as he shook his head before giving me a soft smile.
“Go on. I’m going to get us clean clothes.”
I didn’t bother to nod as I continued my way to the bathroom. But then, I didn’t have an option but to stand there in front of the sink, waiting for Sir. There wasn’t any way I could take my clothes off without his help. Pulling the muscles would surely spike the pain that was manageable.
The pain meds wouldn’t help me any. The doctor said I didn’t need any since I never asked forthem while I was admitted. Sir wasn’t pleased, but really, I would be able to deal with it either way.
Instead, he got a couple of April’s magic pills, just in case.
Looking up at the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. The blue of my eyes was the same, but even I could see the haunted trauma that held years' worth of secrets. Dark shadows under my eyes bled into the bruises that I didn’t remember getting.
My neck had a hand-shaped print, fingers and all—the dark blotchy cut with glue. My own scratch marks were added to the paintwork.
“They look a lot better than days ago,” Sir spoke gently, standing behind me. Through the reflection, he was a couple of inches taller and unmarked. “I will never add to these marks. I’ll never put bruises or cuts on your body.”
I believed him. I always would.
“Arm’s up, boy.”
Once my arms were up, my muscles pulling against the shift of motion, my shirt was taken off with more care than I expected. With a tap on myshoulder, I let my arms back down, and I took in the decoration that covered my front half.
Some were old, most new—the same colored bruises as my face and neck. The ribs, because luck wasn’t on my side, had been broken more than once on the same side and within days of each other.
Turning my eyes to watch Sir instead was better. His sad eyes met mine.
