“Hey,” she says softly as she sets it on the bedside table. “Shadow asked me to come check on you. He’s just . . .” Her eyes flick to the door before finding me again. She smirks. “Sorting something.”
“Okay,” I say, wincing when my voice comes out croaky from the lack of water.
She smiles, grabbing the bottle from the tray and unscrewing the lid. I take it and gulp a few mouthfuls, not caring that it dribbles down my chin.
Kasey lowers to the end of the bed, raking her eyes over me. “He really did a number on you,” she says, her expression sympathetic.
“I haven’t looked in the mirror,” I mutter, glancing at the tray again.
She follows my line of sight and grins. “Eat. Don’t let me stop you.” I reach for the tray. “I ordered so much,” she continues. “I figured you’d like something amongst all that.” I pick up the chicken kebab meat, using my fingers, and savour the taste. “Good?” she asks, and I nod. I break some of the pita bread off and try that next.
“Thanks,” I mutter around mouthfuls.
She waits patiently while I eat some more, then I place the tray back on the table, stuffed from the bread and meat.
She looks around the room, standing and heading over to the mirror resting on the windowsill. “Do you wanna see?” she asks me.
I shrug as she grabs it and moves back to her position on the bed. “I mean, it’s bad, so if you don’t wanna look . . .”
I hesitate, then I take it. My reflection stares back at me. A swollen cheekbone, purple and green spreading under the skin. A split lip, healing uneven. Tiny bruises like fingerprints along my jaw. My eyes look hollow.Tired. Older. Like my mother.
“With some makeup,” Kasey says softly, “you’ll look like you again.”
I don’t speak. I place the mirror on the bed and stand, legs trembling. I walk to the bathroom, where the bigger mirror waits. The towel slips from my body and falls to the tiles.
Bruises bloom over every part of me in deep, rotting colours. Coloured shadows. Finger-marks. Boot prints. Pain mapped out like a story written on skin.
My breath leaves my lungs all at once. The room tilts. I turn to the side and see the bruise that wraps my ribs. Black and green, a violent halo.
The sickness rises too fast to swallow.
I lean over the sink just as it hits, painful, sudden, and food and bile splatter the white porcelain, streaking down the drain in ugly brown smears.
My hands grip the sink so hard, my knuckles go white. I heave again, my legs almost giving out. Kasey rushes to the doorway, “Shit, are you okay?”
And then I hear heavy boots, glancing up just as Shadow fills the doorway. He moves Kasey to the side, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the mess.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, more shame washing over me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking at the mess. “I’m so sorry. I can clean it up,” I add, crouching as I pull the cupboard under the sink open and search for cleaning products.
“Remi.” His voice is clipped, urgent. “Remi, stop.” I feel his hand under my arm, and for a second, I freeze. He notices, and his eyes soften. “Please, leave it. I can sort it.”
Tears spring to my eyes as I rise to my feet. “But it’s my mess,” I whisper feebly.
He rubs a thumb over my lower lip. “What happened? Too much food?” He glances over his shoulder to Kasey. “I told you it was too much.”
“No . . .” I shake my head, and a sigh escapes me. “It wasn’t the food. I just . . . it was me. I looked in the mirror and I just . . .” I trail off, my shoulders slumping.
He spins on Kasey now. “You let her look in the mirror?” he accuses.
She arches a brow. “She’s gonna see herself at some point. It’s like ripping of a plaster.”
“Get out,” he snaps, crowding her until she backs up to the door. When he returns, I still see anger marring his brow.
“It wasn’t her fault,” I say. “I wanted to see, and then I needed to see it all,” I add, suddenly realising I’m still naked. I quickly wrap my arms around myself and give an awkward smile.
He gently takes my wrists, pulling my arms away. “You don’t ever have to cover yourself from me, Rem. And these,” he says gently, spinning me back to face the mirror and pressing my back to his front. Our eyes meet. “They’ll fade, just like the bad memories.”
I notice the bruising on his knuckles and frown. He sees me looking and pulls his hands away. “Get back into bed and rest.”
