Page 31 of Untouchable

“I hate you Alessandro Cordova.”

The raw truth that sounds behind her words hurt far worse than any gun shot, knife wound or beating that I have ever taken. I only have myself to blame, but fuck, what does she expect me to do when she says shit like that? How the fuck am I supposed to act?

Fuck this.

Without another word, I turn around and storm out of the bathroom. Slamming the broken door in place, though it barely does the job. Angrily ripping off my clothes, I slide into my new sweats and decide to forget the t-shirt before I am crawling into bed. I turn my back and close my eyes, willing myself to block everything out and just get some sleep.

Unfortunately, there is one thing that no matter how hard I try to block out, I just can’t. Seraphina’s sobbing.

Chapter Fourteen

Seraphina

After I ugly cried until I nearly passed out in the shower, I picked myself up off the floor, grabbed a towel and then tried to box away all of the hurt and ugly thoughts that were running wild in my head and chest.

Whether I like it or not, I am stuck with this son of a bitch until we figure a way out of this. I fucking hate it but there is no changing it. I can promise one thing though. When all of this is over, I am leaving. I don’t care where and I don’t care how. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t sit around and live my life, pretending like every time he says something awful or looks at me with nothing but disdain it doesn’t kill a part of me. I just can’t. Maybe I can convince Aiden to move once we are engaged.

Oh my god, Aiden. I can’t believe that I forgot about him. I guess running for your life, almost being sexually assaulted/murdered and fighting with your ex-best friend/ex-crush will make for a scrambled brain. I hope he is okay. I wonder where they are? He is probably totally freaking out.

Once I am dry, I put on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Alessandro gave me. I don’t know when he had time to get them, but I don’t really care, at least I have something fresh to change into. Though I can tell just from looking at them that the quality is awful at best. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got these from a cheesy big box store or something.

When I push open the half-broken door, I see that the room is dark. The only light is the soft glow of the streetlight shining through the bottom of the curtains at the front window. I see Alessandro asleep in his bed, stiff and silent.

I lay down on the bed saved for me and groan when I hear the squeaky sound of cheap springs. Seriously? Who even sleeps on spring mattresses? I know this place is run down but would it kill them to get some memory foam?

Trying and failing to fluff my apparent cardboard pillow, I huff in frustration before deciding to just shut my eyes. I do my best to block out this nightmare filled day and try to catch some sleep, but it is easier said than done. My fingers itch to reach for my phone. To let that private folder consume me, to escape from this reality, if only for a little bit.

Quickly though, I remember why I can’t do that. Alessandro crushed my phone. Just like two years ago when he stomped all over my heart, he did the same to my phone, leaving both as nothing but broken fragments on the floor. Fighting back the welling tears gathering in my eyes, I clear my throat and shake my head, forcing myself to sleep.

-

I whimper as a sharp throb rips through my feet. The pain is uncomfortable enough to wake me and I snap my eyes open to see a figure sitting on the edge of my bed. I scramble back until I am pressed up against the headboard, my chest heaving as panic begins to strangle me. Once my eyes adjust to the dark room, I see that the person in question is just Alessandro. He is cradling my burning feet carefully before reaching for some assorted supplies next to him.

He grabs what looks like a wet towel and gently applies it to my first foot. I wince in discomfort but don’t make a sound. Damn, if it hurts this much, I must be worse off than I originally thought. He sets the towel aside before grabbing a pair of tweezers as he begins pulling things out before repeating the process on my other foot.

He begins pulling out a large piece of debris, the pain causing me to whimper as I grip the sheets in my clenched fists. Alessandro pauses and rests a hand on my lower calf comfortingly. I look up to see him watching me carefully, seemingly waiting to continue. I give a small nod and he goes back to work, cleaning up both of my raw and burning feet.

Once he is done, he applies some cream to the bottoms of my feet before wrapping them in bandages and tucks them back under the blanket. He stands up and hovers over me, not saying a word before he leans down and brushes a loose piece of hair out of my face and gently tucks it behind my ear. His fingers softly trail against my skin and I close my eyes as that old but familiar electrical hum sparks across my face at his touch. Shit. Why does he have to be so…him?

Without saying another word, Alessandro gathers the supplies up, sets them on a table and walks back over to his bed. I watch as he lays down, facing away from me. Even though I can’t see his face I can tell from his breathing that he doesn’t fall asleep. He just lays there, like me. I watch his shoulders slowly rise and fall until my eyelids become too heavy and sleep takes over.

The next morning, I am waking up to the noise of the door clicking shut. I open my eyes to see Alessandro carrying two coffees and what looks like some kind of sandwich thingy. He sets them on the side table by my bed as he nods at me.

“I got us breakfast. You can eat it in the car.”

I sit up and scratch my untamed hair before frowning at the questionable breakfast.

“I can’t eat that. It has bread and what is up with that egg? It looks like plastic. I haven’t eaten a carb in over 7 months, and I am not about to ruin all my hard work now.”

Alessandro rolls his eyes likeIam being the difficult one. Is it so much to ask to get some scrambled egg whites?

“Oh, I am more than aware. You have hardly eaten anything since last Christmas when you wore that white sweater dress and the little prick said something about your hips. You are a fucking size 0 and if I spread you out naked in front of me, I could count every one of your ribs. Just shut the fuck up and eat the damn breakfast,” he says far too aggressively to just be talking about breakfast.

My face flushes at the image that pops into my head of being laid out naked in front of him. That is something that I haven’t thought about in a while. I am a little taken back that he remembers what I wore last Christmas. Even more so taken back that he has noticed that my eating habits have changed. No one else has noticed, or at least if they have, they haven’t said anything. This only adds another complicated piece to the ginormous complicated puzzle that is Alessandro Cordova.

I pick the sandwich up and take a bite, completely surprised to find that despite its horrifying appearance, it is pretty good. I pick up the coffee and notice that it isn’t my typical vanilla latte with soy milk, but black coffee with what tastes like a shit ton of vanilla creamer dumped into it. At least he tried, I guess. Not sure why that little gesture has the memory of his nasty words from last night fading away into the background, but it does, for a moment at least.

Alessandro grabs a Walmart bag that looks to have some stuff in it before pulling out a pair of running shoes and socks. I cock a brow at him while I look at the cheaply made shoes.

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