Page 7 of Saved By Two

I sit her on the bathroom countertop, removing my hands from her but not stepping back in case she needs me again.

“Okay, do you need a hand getting undressed?” Noah asks.

Her hands tremble as she reaches for the sweater's hem and begins to shuffle uncomfortably, her face contorting with the effort.

I cup her face between my hands and get her to focus on me. “Let us help you. You can trust us, Jessica.”

She studies my face, searching for a lie with her good eye. Her other one is so swollen I don’t think she’ll be able to open it for days. Fortunately, Mitchell says there doesn’t appear to be any severe damage, but once the swelling goes down, we’re to get it checked out if she has any issues. And yet her injuries look fucking horrendous, her face hardly recognisable.

It’s obvious she can’t lift her arms higher than her waist, and I’m not surprised with her broken ribs and sprained wrist.

“Lean forward.” I manage to get the sweater off her, and it’s only now that her bruising is accentuated in the light of the bathroom.

“What the fuck?” Noah’s voice radiates with anger, causing Jessica to flinch. My eyes go wide as I stare at him in the mirror with what I hope conveys acalm the fuck downexpression. That is usually his job, but this is a trigger for him.

He swallows hard, shaking his head once. “I’m sorry, I need a minute.”

ChapterFour

JESSICA

I try to breathe through my inner turmoil. This is so bloody humiliating I can’t even bring myself to watch as Noah exits the bathroom, the door clicking closed behind him.

“That bad, huh?” I ask, my voice shaky. I avoid eye contact with Caleb, who is lifting me gently off the counter and back on my feet.

“Has this happened before, Jessica?”

I wrap my arms over my chest and hold on to my elbows like an anchor, my nails digging into my skin.

“Yes,” I reply, but it’s barely above a whisper. “But not like this, I thought…” I trail off, not finishing that thought out loud. I thought he was going to kill me.

His hands move to my shorts.

“May I?”

Under any other circumstance, I’d be nervous, but all I feel is utter desolation and shame.

Shame for what happened.

What I allowed to happen.

I grit my teeth and nod my head slowly.

He lowers my shorts, and I stare straight ahead, focusing on the beautiful ice-white tiles opposite me.

Whatever he just said, I didn’t hear. I must have tuned out because suddenly, we’re both standing in the walk-in shower. A moment of panic swells in my chest at the realisation he’s in the shower with me. I lower my gaze and let out a breath when I see he’s still fully clothed except for his feet.

I study his bare feet as he guides me underneath the spray and directs me to sit on a built-in wooden seat. It’s a weird sensation, being here yet not feeling present. Almost like I’m detached from myself.

Everything’s distorted, almost like none of this is real, only in my case, it is real,very real.

He begins pulling some bottles down from a nearby shelf, and when I don’t move, he crouches down so his face is level with mine.

“Do you want some help?”

Clearing my throat, I try to answer, but the words are frozen on my lips.

I want to wash every single part of me, scrub myself clean, rid myself of everywhere that bastard ever touched. But truth be told, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel truly clean again.

---