Page 10 of Her Noble Protector

Lisa rubbed at her temples again. Her head was throbbing, her hair was greasy, and her clothes were sticky. She probably smelled but she couldn’t notice since she’d gotten used to it. She’d been here too many times to count. She had to get to the bathroom and her Tylenol. Maybe even a shower. He’d be gone by then.

A woman could hope.

Lisa crawled to the other side of her mattress, got up on wobbly legs, and made it to the bathroom. She filled her glass with water and poured three pills out of the mega bottle of Tylenol and downed them. She grimaced; the water out of the tap was kind of brackish, but walking to the kitchen for bottled water—if she even had any—seemed insurmountable. She tried to remember the last time she ate and couldn’t come up with anything. She had to eat, but the thought of it made her stomach twist in revolt.

She tried to pull her pajama top over her head, but she got dizzy. She stopped and moved two steps so she could rest her butt against the sink, then tried again. It worked. It took two tries to take off her pajama bottoms and when she was done she was shivering. She stumbled to the shower and turned the water on, setting it to hot.

By mistake, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and slammed her eyes shut. Reaching into the stall, she felt the heat of the water and climbed in, hoping that the shower would help wash away all of her feelings. She didn’t want to feel anymore. She didn’t want to think anymore, or notice the changes in her body. Fine, she looked like she’d been in a prison camp, but what did it really matter?

Lisa noticed the loofah beside her favorite peach body wash. It was next to a pear scent, but that wasn’t right, she never used pear. She squirted some peach onto the loofah and gagged.

That night. The faint smell of peaches on my skin.

Her eyes watered as bile filled her mouth. She pushed at the shower door but wasn’t in time to get to the toilet. She spit vomit into the shower.

The smell of vomit and peach made her gag again. She stumbled to the toilet and wretched into it. She remembered El Jefe slicing her arm open. Lisa slapped her hand over the scar, feeling the pain, remembering the blood. The smell of copper, body odor, and peach all mingling to forever drive home a soul-deep terror. She continued throwing up until there was nothing left, but there hadn’t been much to begin with.

Somebody was crying but Lisa couldn’t figure out who. They sounded so sad, and she wanted to help them. When she opened her eyes she saw her red bathroom mat.

“Jesus.”

She rolled over on the rug and looked up at the ceiling, shivering and crying. She flashed back to that time in Mexico, replaying it when the kidnapper had grabbed her and calmly sliced his knife into her arm, laughing while he did it. Just to prove a point to the other prisoners. She could still feel that first sharp pain as the knife pierced her flesh, then the knife tearing through her skin as it went from bicep to elbow, and that wasn’t the worst of it.

She swiped at her tears and pushed her aching, shivering body up off the floor, using the sink counter to help her. The shower was still running; she saw steam coming out. No vomit on the floor.

“Get clean, Garcia,” she gritted out to her reflection. “And whatever you do, don’t use the peach soap.”

For a moment, just an instant, she saw a smile on her face. Who knew that she could smile?

“Get in the shower. Get warm! Get clean!”

When she stepped into the shower stall she picked up the loofah and ignored the bottle of peach soap on the floor. She grabbed the pear soap and loaded up the loofah, breathing in the new scent. Her stomach didn’t object. For long minutes Lisa soaped her body. She no longer tried to scrub away her skin like she had weeks ago. That had been useless and just made her bleed. Now she just soaped and cleaned herself, always ignoring the ugly red scar on her arm.

Grabbing the pear-scented shampoo she worked to keep her eyes open as she washed her hair. Pushing her fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp felt good. She poured a second helping of shampoo into her hand and started again, then froze.

She hadn’t locked her bedroom door!

Lisa ducked her hair under the water, shaking her fingers through the strands to get rid of the shampoo. Even before she was done, she shoved open the shower door and raced out of the bathroom, then slammed her bedroom door shut. She fumbled with the locks but was finally able to thrust the deadbolts closed. Leaning against the door she jumped when Raiden started talking.

“Are you all right? I heard a crash. Talk to me, Lisa.”

He sounded concerned. Worried.

Even with her bedroom door locked, Lisa felt utterly exposed as water dripped off her naked body. She pushed off the door and grabbed up a blanket to cover herself.

“Lisa, talk to me. Are you all right? What happened.”

She wound the blanket around her body twice, the second time so it could cover her head and shoulders. Looking around she spotted her dresser and the little spot between that and her wall. It was a safe little space that she could tuck herself into. Lisa stumbled across her room and dropped down into a small huddle.

“I’m worried. Tell me what happened. I don’t want to come in without an invitation, but you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t come in.” Her throat hurt after the vomiting. She realized he couldn’t have heard her words, she tried again. “I’m fine. Don’t come in.”

“What happened?” he finally asked.

Lisa dropped her forehead onto her knees. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to talk. Hadn’t she said enough?

“Honey, are you okay?”