“What makes you hesitate?”
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t be fair. My attention is split.”
Her grin faltered. “Who?”
“Nobody.”
“Who is it, Alina?”
“No one.”
“I surely hope that it is not a certainSname.”
“It might be. What is it to you?” I lifted my head and turned over to face her on my side.
Her delicate brows knit together. “I don’t want to see you hurt is all,” she said as she touched my cheek gently, running her finger over my dark lashes before trailing over to the lighter ones.
“You have nothing to fuss about. I can handle any man that throws himself my way.”
She smiled briefly before hugging me close, resting her head on my chest.
I paused, looking down at the redhead. It must be the emotions running high from the liquor. I hugged her back and rested my chin on her head.
My sweet Phoebe, you worry for me too much.
I could not sleep.My rash had begun to burn with every friction between the bedsheets. It was upsetting that I could not simply take off my skin and wash it like a soiled dress.
The only relief I could think of was to draw a bath again.
The water was like heaven. I sank lower until the suds were up to my chin. The way it lapped at my wounds and caressed me. Who needed comfort from another when you could just soak alone in the bath? The buzz in my head was pounding. I should have drunk more water in my pursuit of spirits.
My head rested against the side of the tub. I clutched theedge and leaned my head against my arms, hiding my face as if to ground myself. Lying on my side, I curled up against the rim of the basin. The remaining light from my candle strained my eyes despite it being but a small glimmer.
I must have dozed off, floating in and out of sleep as my nauseous state threatened to make me lurch every now and then.
A hand gathered my hair away from my face. I made another gagging sound and groaned. Phoebe must have heard me.
“I am fine... Go back to sleep. I am fine, just...” I curled my knees closer again, trying to breathe deeply as I kept my eyes closed.
Deep breath. You’re not going to get sick. You’re fine, I chanted to myself.
Calming fingers brushed through my hair, dragging gently along my scalp as my hair was gathered back and laid over the edge of the basin, out of the water in case Ididget sick.
“Please go. I don’t need you getting sick as well if my afternoon drink makes a reappearance. No more vodka for us,” I whimpered, my forehead still against the cool surface of the tub. “Hmm... that’s nice,” I whispered. Relaxing at the touch, I leaned into the palm that caressed my scalp. Having my hair played with was one of my favorite feelings.
Then the tingling on my scalp stopped, and my hair was set back down.
The sound of retreating footsteps was followed by the deafening scent of smoke and metal. It hit my senses like a crop on a horse’s hindquarters.
My eyes snapped open, and no one was there, but the smell remained.
I slowly turned. The water in the basin was a thick, opaque crimson.
Hesitantly, I lifted my gaze. A girl was slumped over the opposite end of the tub. Her sticky hair clung to the side of her lowered face and stuck to the side of the tub as she hung loosely over the rim, her arms extended down into the water. Between her arms, a wet piece of paper was stuck to the porcelain, right below her bleeding neck.
The ink was blotched and runny from the dampness, expanding in the paper fibers like veins.
Red does look good on you.
