Page 66 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rosie

Rosie bounded up the stairs, swallowing her sobs as she went. She dashed into the bathroom and flung the door shut behind her, closing everyone out. She stood with her back to the door, breathless, her mind going over and over what Maria had said … all those things … all those things William had heard, and now he’d be coming to tell her to get out.

She heaved in a big gulp of air and buckled at the knees. “Oh, God … Oh, God. Oh, God …” She sucked in a deep breath, so it expanded her lungs and chest, but it did nothing to make her feel better. It was an effort to get to the sink and turn the tap on. Even the cold water did nothing for her as she splashed it at her face.

When she raised her eyes to look at herself, all she saw was a sad woman with purple and black make-up streaking down her face in blurred lines.

“Stop crying,” she said to herself. “Just stop crying …”

Her hand shook, but she used it to scoop more water from the running tap. This time she splashed it to her mouth, but it was impossible to swallow, and she sobbed it back out.

“Why did you all have to come. Why?” It wasn’t hard to imagine Maria’s delight when she knew Rosie’s parents would be arriving. She couldn’t play this game with her anymore. She’d won … Maria had won.

William's voice was a deep rumble from a room below. He and his mother were arguing, but it was his voice Rosie could hear the most. He was shouting. Not that she could tell what he was saying. His words were muffled, angry …

If she weren’t in such a state, she’d have gone downstairs to check on him. Make sure he was okay … her tears turned her into a coward, and she couldn’t face Maria down there. Not in the state she was in. Maria would see the crying as a victory. It’d be like blood on the blade of the sword she’d very cleverly wielded.

A door slammed below, and Rosie reached for a tissue off the back of the toilet. She wiped her eyes, but more tears came. “For God sake, stop it.” She pushed her hair off her face … hair that had been perfectly done a couple of hours ago, now looked the same way she felt … ragged.

How could her parents have done this? She knew they were assholes, but this … just thinking about it had her angry, and she clenched her fist. Why now? Why when everything was going so great? When she and William had a future? When they had something between them that she could love and cherish? She smoothed her hand down her dress, smoothing it across her body. They would ruin everything.

The mirror above the sink hid a cabinet behind it. There were different bottles of medications. Rosie fumbled, trying to find the paracetamol in a hope she could ward off the headache before it took root, but her temples already ached and throbbed. Maybe it would be too late.

Instead of the paracetamol, she found the soap dish … the one she thought William had thrown away. It was blue and sealed, but inside was a perfectly small and clean blade—a blade popped out of a disposable razor. It was sharp. She plucked it out and held it between thumb and forefinger. How many times had William taken this blade and put it to his skin? How many times had he stood in this exact same spot and shed the tears from his skin instead of his eyes?

For the first time perhaps, Rosie understood. She got it. That need to rid his body of everything inside, the way it could crawl along the skin. Like it was doing with hers now. Like the anger had tiny teeth and feet and her body was covered in it.

As tempting as it was to put the blade in the bin, she dropped it back into his dish, closed the lid and put it back where she had found it.

William’s footsteps sounded on the stairs a moment later, and Rosie blew her nose and tried to straighten up to make herself look more presentable. A gentle rap on the door filled her with both comfort and dread at William seeing her in the state she was in.

“You okay, Rosie?” William asked.

“Yeah. Just give me a second.” She’d need more than a second to get her skin back to pale, instead of the blotchy swollen mess she was. But this time when she splashed her face with cold water, it actually felt like it was doing something. Gripping the edge of the sink with both hands, she shook her head at herself. She could shake everything off they had said. She could put it away ... it was the whole reason she was in England to begin with, but if William believed it all … if for one second he doubted her …

Another gentle tap on the door. “Rosie,” William said. This time he tried the handle and gave it a slight jiggle. Not enough to open the door, but enough to make her stomach do somersaults. This was meant to be a special evening for them. More than just Mark … more than getting away from it all. They were supposed to make a memory tonight.

“Rosie, please open the door.”

“Just give me a second … okay?”

She heard something against the door. It wasn’t a knock and not quite a thud. She imagined him standing on the other side, leaning on the door perhaps.

“Just let me in, Rosie …”

“I …” But the door opened, and she stepped back like some forbidden creature was going to step in and attack her. William was on the other side, though, his deep blue eyes on her, his face as handsome as ever and the sight of him set her off again. How could she live if she couldn’t touch that face, kiss those lips?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know they were coming. I’m sorry …” her words tumbled out, muffled between heaving sobs as she lost control of herself. A second later, strong arms went around her, pulled her in and pressed her to an equally strong chest.

She dissolved there, against him, wrapped up in him where she could be safe.

“Ssshh,” he said against her hair. “It’s all okay.”

“No. It isn’t …”

“It is. I promise.”

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