Page 128 of Lilies from Hell

I had waited too long to satisfy my little demon.

I press my lips together as I move my right leg. It hurts more than the other cuts by far, I guess it had been much deeper and I don’t know why. The bathroom door opens. I smile when I see him with a first aid kit.

“Let me see,” he whispers softly, pointing to my leg.

I hiss as I move it slightly, revealing the swollen, bloodied skin, and for the first time I’m afraid that one of his cuts might become infected. My mouth falls open when I see the needle he takes out of the first- aid kit.

“What’s that?” I hesitate, still looking at him. He kisses my lips. He swallows my pained scream with a kiss as I feel the needle pierce my wound, injecting something that burns like liquid fire. But soon, the burning fades, and I am surprised to feel my leg go numb... Has he anesthetized me?

He looks at me with dilated pupils and a warm smile.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, referring to my leg.

His hand gently caresses my thigh. My leg goes numb as his kisses travel across my face. By the time I react, he has already begun to carefully stitch up the cuts in my wound.

I feel nothing, but my heart beats strongly as I stare at the small thread passing through my skin. I can barely make it out among all the blood. When he finishes, he cuts the excess thread with his teeth, disinfects it, and bandages the cuts.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and wait for him to get out of the car to open the door for me. He says something to his men before taking me in his arms again and walking me to the door. The mere thought of someone seeing us like this makes me panic.

“I think I can manage on my own,” I say on the verge of a heart attack when I see him ring the doorbell.

“It’s always better to be safe than sorry.” I look at him annoyed, making his smile fade. Telling him to get off would be useless.

I try not to laugh when he starts biting the curve of my neck, tickling me. However, moments later, my heart nearly stops when I hear the door open. I regain the colour that drained from my face when I see Jason on the other side, his expression changing from confused to amused in seconds.

“He ended up leaving you in a wheelchair, I see.” His comment is the last straw. I can’t even nag at him because I’m too busy remembering how to breathe without dying of embarrassment. He, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered. He even gives a hint of a smile.

He’s climbing the stairs with me in the same position, my cheeks still red, when his laughter snaps me out of my reverie.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, frowning.

He shakes his head and smiles. I stare at his mouth in awe as he arranges some cushions behind my back. I’d never get tired of saying how beautiful his smile is. It softens his features to the point of making him look like someone who doesn’t have a hint of violence in him, despite all the tattoos.

He sits down next to me and takes some things out of his pocket: a black dreamcatcher and a set of keys that I assume are for the flat we were in earlier. I take it with my lips curled upwards, focusing on the golden details of the dreamcatcher and ignoring the key ring.

“I won’t be able to be with you tonight.” I look up and meet his gaze, then I understand. He’s referring to my nightmares. I smile wider, eagerly waiting for him to finally bring our lips together. “Don’t touch the bandages.” I nod, feeling a tingle as he gently brushes our noses together. “It’s getting harder to leave you, then I miss you so much that I feel like I’m dying inside.”

“Just promise me that whatever you’re going to do, you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will, but it’s not me you should be worried about,” he replies, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His words left me confused, my heart starts to beat rapidly, but I can’t tell if it is worry or adrenaline.

“The keys,” I say, holding them up in the air as he’s about to leave.

“They’re yours.” Is all he says before leaving.

I unlock my phone when I receive a pair of notifications. It’s a text with the photos Grace had sent me the night of the bonfire. I write back to her.

My curiosity reaches its peak with the hours until I can’t take it anymore and get up. The painkiller he gave me helps with the pain, but the stitches still bother me. I go to the dressing room and take off my clothes in front of the mirror. The reflection shows my body covered in small bruises that shows where his hands and teeth had been.

When I’m at home, I always try to hide them with makeup, but deep down I wanted to show them to everyone. Everyone except my parents. I don’t even want to imagine the look on their faces if they saw them. I find some scissors and get rid of the bandages.

I gasp in amazement when I see the small scar that is beginning to form. It is his name. My cheeks flush violently, unable to stop looking at it, and every time I do, I feel a legion of ants crawling through all my organs. Perhaps someone in their right mind would see it as something sinister and repulsive, a sign to run and not look back, but for me? For me, it’s the best gift I had ever been given, and I wanted to preserve it dearly and show it to the world.

I would brag about it if it weren’t for the fact that I knew people would think I was crazy. Maybe they would be right, but I don’t really care if I am. Everyone has a dark side and despicable secrets. Like my father. Who knows what else he might be hiding. I think as I go downstairs to the kitchen. My plan had been to avoid seeing him for the rest of the day, but halfway there I run into him in the main room.

“Do you think this is a hotel where you can come and go as you please?” His tone is getting louder and louder. What the hell was his problem?

“I didn’t know I had to report my every move,” I say.