“What happened, baby?” I ask, gently taking his chin between two fingers. Inspecting his face, I don’t see any other injuries. “Come lie down with me.”
Darius shakes his head. “Can I shower first, please?”
“Of course.” I kiss his temple and then with my arm still around him, I guide him into the bathroom, sitting him down on the toilet lid. Then I start the shower. Darius stands, wobbling on his feet, but he holds out a hand when I try to help him.
“I’m okay,” he mumbles. “Can you get me some painkillers, please?”
“Sure. And I’ll grab some clean towels. Do you need me to help you with the shower?”
He shakes his head and I reluctantly walk out of the room, leaving the door partly open. I get a bottle of water out of the fridge, take two paracetamol out of the drawer next to my bed, and a clean towel from my cupboard, then head back into the bathroom, my heart sinking to my feet as I catch sight of Darius.
“Baby.” I drop everything to the floor, hurrying over to the shower, where Darius is sitting against the wall, his head down, buried between his folded arms. There’s a deep purple bruise blooming across his side, and his body is shaking with the force of his sobs.
Not caring that I’m fully dressed, I climb under the spray, falling to my knees in front of him. Careful not to cause him any more pain than what I’m sure he’s already in, I wrap my arms around his waist and gently nudge him forward. He comes easily, climbing into my lap and I kiss his temple, warm water trailing down the both of us. My shower is not big, so I end up with my back against the opposite wall.
Darius doesn’t talk. He holds onto me, his lips pressed to my neck as he cries, and I hold him back, stroking his hair and whispering how much I love him.
When the water turns cold, I reach behind me and flick it off.
“Let’s go to bed, angel.”
“Okay.”
I stand, reaching out a hand for Darius, which he takes, wincing when he straightens up, holding his wrist tightly to his chest. The anger simmering in my blood like an undercurrent surges forward when I get a good look at him. His stomach and ribs are covered in bruises. Deep, shocking purple blotches marring his pale flesh.
I blow out a breath, reaching for him with gentle hands. Too scared to speak, in case he hears the anger in my voice, I wordlessly help him out of the shower, wrap him in a towel and kiss his forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispers, voice hoarse.
Hands on Darius’s cheeks, I tip his head up and press my mouth to his, peppering soft kisses over his swollen, torn lip.
“I love you.”
Wet, salty tears run down his cheeks, and I kiss them away. I’m still in soaking wet clothing, so I kiss him once more, then tell him to climb into bed while I get undressed. He leaves the room, his movements slow, pain clear in the way he’s holding his body.
Once he’s out of the room, I grip the edges of the basin until my knuckles turn white. I need to shake off these feelings before I go out there to him, but all I can think of is storming out of here and ripping that fucker to shreds. Only knowing how much Darius needs me right now keeps me from following through.
For now.
“Fuck!” I growl, ripping off my wet t-shirt and shorts. I wrap myself in a towel, then take a few breaths to calm my boilingblood. When I’m sure I have myself under control, I pick up the discarded painkillers and water and leave the bathroom.
Crossing the space to the corner of the flat set up as my bedroom, I stop only to retrieve my phone, then stand at the edge of the bed.
Darius is curled onto his side, his back to me, vulnerable and tense, the covers of the bed pulled up to his chin. The mattress dips under my weight as I settle onto the bed behind him.
“Can I hold you?”
He nods, wet blond hair fanned out like a halo on the pillow.
I slide one arm beneath him, hating the way he flinches when my arm brushes his side. “Sorry.” I move slower until he’s firmly in my arms.
“S’okay.”
“I think you need to go to the hospital, D.”
“No. Please. I just want to sleep. I’m okay. It’s not serious.” There’s a subtle tremble in his body, like he’s fighting off cold, or maybe a crash of adrenaline.
“It could be serious, baby. You don’t know what damage he’s done.”
