Page 62 of Ruining Vanessa

“Please, Damien…” she begs, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I need to know you’re all right,” I say, already going for the button on her jeans. “I need to know Giulio didn’t go too far.”

Vanessa freezes, like she wants to say something, and she tries. Her lips form words, but she can’t get the sound out.

I don’t wait, continuing to unzip her jeans, and I carefully pull them down as far as I can. The bandages are much larger on her thighs, and even through them, I can see pinpricks of blood.

Slayer could have stopped this. He didn’t have to do what Giulio asked—

No. He did. I understand that better than anyone. I don’t know what I’d do if Giulio asked me to cut her.

If he asked me to choke Vanessa, knowing it’s taken all I have to keep from doing it.

That must’ve been what she’d been trying to say, that Slayer had been the one to cut her.

But we both know he was just as much a tool as the knife itself.

“It’s not too bad,” she whispers. “Slayer cleaned them up and made sure to bandage them. Some of them…” She doesn’t look up at me, but she doesn’t look at the bandages, either. “He glued them together.”

I’m strangely grateful. I want to believe that Giulio would have bothered, but Giulio tends to leave his messes for somebody else to clean up. At least Slayer wasn’t so mad at Vanessa that he didn’t care for her.

I stand, tugging on her arm. “Here. Why don’t I run a bath for you?”

“No, it’s okay,” she says, wiping quickly at her eyes. “The cuts… they might open again.”

Some of them probably have already, if the little points of blood in the bandages are any indication, but at least there aren’t huge splotches of it.

“You’ll feel better,” I say. “I’ll clean the wounds and bandage them up again.”

She still hesitates, and I think I know why.

“I’ll keep my clothes on,” I promise her. “I simply want to take care of you.”

Vanessa bites her bottom lip. “I don’t want you to see them,” she says, her words edged with a sob. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that.”

My heart squeezes in my chest, and I don’t understand why I’m so bothered by this. I’ve wanted her since I first laid eyes on her, but I’ve never been moved by her tears before. I bend down to kiss her forehead. “Shh. I won’t judge. Let me pamper you.”

She shudders, and I choose to believe it’s not because I’m touching her.

“Okay,” she whispers, even though it couldn’t be more obvious that she doesn’t want me near her.

I help her pull her jeans up enough that she can easily walk, then lead her past the door I always keep closed, into my bedroom. She tenses when she sees the bed, but I keep walking toward the main bathroom.

It’s almost identical to the one in Giulio’s condo in terms of layout, although Giulio had done more redesigning. I’d left it as it had come, with white tile and soft green walls. A large, jacuzzi style tub sits in the corner.

I somewhat reluctantly let go of Vanessa’s hand to start running the bath, setting it as hot as I can stand. By the time the tub is filled, some of the water will have cooled.

Then I turn around to face Vanessa. “Strip so I can see the full extent of the damage.”

Her face is pale, but she looks resigned as she pulls off the boots and socks, then sheds the jeans and underwear. Both thighs have had the same treatment, with wide bandages covering the skin, and there are so many little bandages all over her stomach.

It’s not the best idea to get her wounds wet, but this isn’t the first time I’ve cleaned up after one of Giulio’s messes. The little cuts won’t be a problem, but I’ll need to wrap the bigger ones—the ones she’d mentioned had been glued shut. I pull out the first aid kit from beneath the sink along with the box of gauze, tape, and special plastic wrap I’ll need. It won’t be perfect, but I can always re-treat her injuries if they do get a little wet. We just won’t use the jacuzzi feature of the tub, that’s all.

I glance at Vanessa, and her arms are crossed against her chest a little stiffly as she tries not to disturb the wounds.

“How long has it been?” I ask, and I feel myself holding my breath. If it’s been more than 24 hours, it should be okay. I should’ve asked her earlier, but I’d just wanted so badly to take care of her that I hadn’t thought of the logistics of basic wound care. Stupid.

She scrunches up her nose a little bit. “Um. Two or three days?” she guesses. “I’m not really sure.”

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