"No, not even me."
Without warning, her trembling transforms into full blown shakes.At her stomach, her hands war with one another then fiddle with the front of her blood-crusted shirt.
"I ne...need them.Please, please don't throw them away.I'll still take them after being on the floor."I hear her whimper.
My brows pinch in confusion.Raising my hand, it rests carefully at the side of her face when I turn her to look my way.
"Not going to throw away your meds.I'll put them back in the bottles while you're in the bath."
"You promise?"If her voice gets any smaller—
"Promise, Sunshine.Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
Together we walk into the bathroom, where Sadie tenses and uses herself as a roadblock to stop me.With a flick of my wrist, I hit the light switch.Fluorescence blindingly spills inside and unveils damage I didn't see on the cameras.
"What the fuck?"
"E...Elias..."She chokes at the end of a breath.
Glass is all over the place.The mirror?It’s hanging off the wall with pieces still stuck behind metal brackets once used to hold it in place.
Swollen splashes of dried blood trail from the sink, to the attached closet, and out.Now I know where she hurt herself, not that it matters.
Releasing her, I yank the hand towel off its hook near the door and wipe the counter free of glass.Tiny clinking sounds of all pitches rattle throughout the space while Sadie stands to the side, tearfully sniffing.Throwing the towel into a corner, I grab her by the waist, lift, and sit her on the empty counter space.
"Don't move.I'm getting a broom and the trashcan to get this shit up.I'll fix the mirror later.Promise me."
Red-rimmed and drowned-eyes look around us.Her pink nose and tear-softened lips feel like a punch to the gut—these are real.Heartfelt, painstaking, tears.
Directing her to me, my forehead presses to hers.
"Promise.Now."
"I....I p...promise."
"Good girl," I say roughly.
I press a soft kiss to her lips and leave her there.It’s time to start my chore list.
Number one : Clean up the glass.
An hour ago, if you'd have asked me what I expected to find when I walked in here, it wouldn't be a sixty-pound pile of glass, pills used as confetti, and Sadie’s fragile shell.
All of the glass was up and tossed, including the fine pieces that would inevitably end up in her feet—had to use a wet rag for those pesky sons of bitches.
Next came the pills, which I sorted by size, color, and the numbers stamped into them.It took me too long, but I was able to get them back in their assigned bottles.
Sadie remained in the warm water and shallow layer of bubbles the entire time.Anytime she moved, they swished around and threw more of their citrusy-floral scent into the air.Beneath the water, her mangled nails dug at her cuticles, and when they stopped cooperating, she moved down to her toes before giving up.
I've been standing here, arms crossed and perched against the counter across from the tub for the past few minutes.She's not looked at me once.I truly don't mind; she needs her space and to deal with her issues in a way that works for her.But right now, she's too far off the reservation and she needs help.
While cleaning, I found her hairbrush and the scissors below chunks in the sink.They sit behind me now as I weigh her emotions before I do something that fucks her up even more.Finally speaking, I anticipate her backlash.
"Sunshine?"
"Hmm," she responds without delay.
"Did a number on your hair.Not the best person with a pair of shears, but..."The question feels like I'm crossing a different kind of line.She's put so much faith and trust in me over the years; this would reach beyond that—somehow.
