I dressed her, pulling my t-shirt down to her thighs, where it barely covered her intimate area. The blood, still between her legs, ignited a rage inside me, and I was louder than I meant to be when I called my father the most offensive term I could think of.
“I'm sorry,” I immediately apologized to Jolie for my lack of respect towards her ears. “Come up with me; let me clean you up?" It was probably the stupidest idea I ever had, and I knew that upon asking.
I was never expecting her to consider it.
She looked out to the hallway, those ears I'd possibly offended, listening carefully for any noise upstairs.
I knew my father well. He'd fall asleep before I'd climb the stairs. He was on the vodka tonight. The smell was already on his breath this afternoon. He was drinking the cheap kind, because that’s all that was left in this house, and that always knocked him out quickly. I spared a glance to the solo bottle top he'd left on the counter.
When I turned back, Jolie was taking her second bite of her sandwich, her shaking hands capturing the crumbs as they fell from her lips.
“I won't be able to climb the stairs; I’ll take too long. But I don't want to be down here by myself.”
“I can carry you. My father will drop off quickly,” I said, not feeling like I could retract my offer.
She pondered for a second, then another, and then she nodded. “I need a real bath, or a shower will do. Are you sure he’ll be asleep?”
I blinked twice. I quietly pulled out another chair to sit in, giving her the time to finish off her sandwich, her stomach rumbling throughout. When she was done, she chugged at the chocolate milk.
“Do you need more?”
She shook her head and hiccupped. Embarrassment pinkedher hollow cheeks.
I left the mess on the table and told Jolie not to worry about it. I turned and bent in front of her, tapping my back for her to get on.
I was careful with her knee, as she was my swollen throat. Her hands landed on my chest, fingers pressing in until she felt my heartbeat. She rubbed at my chest, massaging the pain I felt that could never be taken away. But I silently thanked her for trying, pulling her hand to my mouth and placing a soft kiss on her swollen knuckles.
I walked us through the hallway, darkness trailing behind as I turned out the lights. I stopped at the bottom step, my foot testing the creaky floorboard with the weight of Jolie on my back.
“I'm scared.” Her whisper crept up my neck.
“I'd die before letting him hurt you.”
“I don't want that.” She held me tighter.
“He's asleep, trust me.”
She nodded, her hair tickling my ears more than ever. I pulled away because I was in no mood for laughing, and I continued moving up the stairs.
The upstairs corridor felt like a mile long, and even with nothing to worry about, I tried to rush through it.
I didn't stop at my room, moving quickly away from my parents’ door on the opposite side, all the way to the bathroom, which was, unfortunately, the last fucking door.
There was no sound up here, nothing but the light snore that my mother always refused to believe was her. I didn’t stop to wait for the louder snort coming from my father's blocked nose, that always interrupted her sleep.
I turned the bathroom lock the second we stepped inside.
Jolie took off my tee, hanging it on the rail next to the towel she'd be using.
She limped towards the shower, while I internally scolded myself for still appreciating the curve of her ass.
I undressed myself and assisted her over the small step into the shower.
Standing naked, with nothing on our bodies but each other's hands, we helped each other wash, keeping the waterpressure slow and quiet.
I didn't tell her why I had mud up to my elbows, and she didn't ask as her fingers weaved through the water, helping to lift it from my skin.
I reached for my mother's special moisturizers, the kind I wasn't meant to touch. And I ignored her whiny voice as it played in my head, by squeezing a healthy dollop into my palm. I massaged Jolie's back, mindful of the heaviness on her bruises.
