It was her routine. And routine was important for her.
The lavender scent of the bath oils floated around her, and she breathed them in deeply, calming herself with every breath. She had been feeling the familiar pangs of panic recently. Like an old friend coming round uninvited, herschizoaffective disorder was creeping back in on her. She’d been thinking about going to see her doctor before it got too bad. So bad that she couldn’t think straight and her left was right and right was left. Before the world was noisy and blurry and fucked up again, she thought.
But she hadn’t gone yet.
She didn’t know why.
She just hadn’t.
She would soon though, she told herself. Soon she would.
The earbuds were tucked deep into her ears, the classical sounds of ‘The Marriage of Figaro Scene 2 Porgi Amor’ playing to her heart. Delores took another deep healing breath, and then exhaled slowly, the tremble of air leaving her. The bubbles covering her breasts stirred and she closed her eyes as the woman in her iPod sang to her, soothing her, calling to her. She let go of all her troubles, her aches, and her worries, and settled into the music.
The rise and fall of the woman’s pain as she sang was heart-breaking. It was a feeling Delores could understand, could connect with. A beautiful pain that ached through her body and mind.
A cold chill ran over her face, and Delores slowly opened her eyes, intending to sit up and put some more hot water into the bath. When she opened her eyes, she looked into Michael’s sapphire eyes. For a moment, she didn’t even startle. The melodic singing still ringing in her ears blocking out Michael’s words as his mouth moved angrily.
He was furious. She could see that.
Spittle caught at the edge of his mouth, and his cheeks were flushed with rage, but all she could do was stare in muted fascination. He continued to yell, but to Delores it felt more like a hallucination as the song reached a crescendo and Michael’s hands reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders.
Her eyes bulged as he thrust her under the water, her face sinking below the creamy bubbles and getting lost beneath the surface. Her legs kicked out, her hands clawed and panic burned in her chest at the breath she needed so much but could not have.
But he didn’t relent.
The music played on in her head even as the earbuds slipped out, the pain in the woman’s voice evident. A bitter sadness tearing through the melody and playing to Delores’s broken heart.
As Delores stared up through the water, her thrashing ceasing, she saw Michael’s furious face staring down at her. His lips pulled back into a fierce sneer, a look of pure satisfaction washing over him.
Bubbles blanketed his image and Delores closed her eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Six.
Delores
“Can I have some water?” Delores asked the nurse, her voice croaking.
She hated having to ask. She didn’t deserve water; she didn’t deserve such a luxury. She knew that. But the temptation was too great, and her mouth too dry.
The nurse was new, at least to Delores. She was younger than the others had been, no weasel eyes or crinkled skin. Just smooth creamy pale cheeks and a pert pink mouth. She smiled almost fondly at Delores and looked around the quiet room for the water jug.She doesn’t know, Delores thought to herself.She doesn’t know how wicked I am.
“That’s strange, there should be some here, let me go get you a jug.” She smiled again.
The nurse strode out of the room, her white sneakers making a soft squeak with each step. The nurse had left the door open and the noise of the hospital filtered into the room. The sound of talking and of laughter, the sound of trays being moved, of elevators pinging, of keyboards being tapped, of paper being shuffled, of something squeaking, of something churning, of something beeping, of something of something of something…
Delores heard it all, and for the first time since she had woken up in hospital, she felt a part of the world again.
Delores closed her eyes and let the sounds absorb into her skin.
Michael had said she needed the quiet, to rest and recoup, to decide what she should do next. She didn’t know what she wanted to do next. She wasn’t sure that she would really have a say in it. Not after what she had done. Surely the choices would be taken from her. Her freedom was not her own anymore.
The noise was blissful, the soft echoes of life thrilling to her manic brain. Michael always said she needed the quiet. He always thought he knew best for Delores, but sometimes she actually felt better with noise. It helped to distinguish what was real and what wasn’t. It helped to drown out some of the voices inside of her. It drowned some of the nagging doubts and worries that clawed up her oesophagus and tried to escape into her world like putrid poison gas.
Delores was parched, her mouth so dry her tongue was barely able to move around in it. They had her hooked up to a drip, to help rehydrate her, yet no amount of fluids was stopping her from being thirsty. She hadn’t said anything to the doctors, but she knew it was her body punishing her. Making her suffer. She didn’t blame it. How could she?
The world had gone silent again and with a frown, Delores opened her eyes. Michael stared down at his wife, her expression morphing to shock when she saw him so close to her.
“Michael,” she said, simply, her voice a whisper of air.
