Page 18 of Beg Me Angel

“Don't make me repeat myself.” The dish clanked hard as his arms stiffly jammed into the silver basin. “Just go.” He didn't turn to look at me, he never lifted his eyes off the sink.

The air seemed to sour, his welcomed arms turned rigid, his eyes set like stone on the single bowl in front of him. I wasn't sure what the hell was wrong.

I thought we were flirting, I thought that there was maybe a sliver of something brewing between us. He was the one who had started this onslaught of sexual tension and dirty thoughts.

But maybe I had it all wrong.

Maybe I was taking it further than he wanted and reading too much into it. Maybe my emotions were so twisted I was falsely hearing sexual notes when they really meant nothing at all.

“Okay, I'm going.”

His shift in mood threw me off. Pax had taken me in and now he changed in an instant. As if my presence was a burden even though he was still giving me shelter, shelter I hadn't asked for, food I hadn't begged him to give.

I hadn't asked for any of this, he offered.

No, he insisted.

Pax had made the decision to harbor me like a wounded animal. I hadn't come to his door, groveling at his feet for him to save me. He carried me back here, he had heat in his eyes and an unrelenting stare; he started this, not me.

Shutting the door behind me, I turned on the water and let the steam fill the room. I didn't look in the mirror, I didn't want to.

I wasn't ready to see what I looked like or what condition I was in. If I wasn't ready to remember what the hell happened, what good would witnessing my injuries do?

Slipping my dirt-covered clothes off, I stuck my wrist under the water. It was hot, turning my ivory skin a blushed pink as it ran over my skin. Stepping under the shower head, I let the water drench my hair, rolling over my shoulders and down my legs.

The water that pooled between my feet turned from clear to jet black. Bits of leaves and small twigs tumbled over my back and landed at my heels.

Holy shit.

I wasn't sure what I expected to happen in the shower, but it looked like I had just shed my skin and was morphing into a completely different person. The color of the water changed as I changed, transforming from the grungy soiled girl into the woman I knew I was.

I'm glad I didn't look at myself before.

There was this sense of relaxation that seemed to mesmerize me as the water beat down on my shoulders, massaging away the past few hours of tension. All my aches and pains seemed less intense, all the swelling and bruises seemed to lighten and shrink.

Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but I felt like I was washing away the weight of whatever I had gone through. My mouth started to move, the words of a song my mother used to sing to me flowed effortlessly over my tongue.

I needed that music, those words, the reminder that I was alive and my family was out there waiting for me. I felt recharged and invigorated, ready to hit this whole thing head on.

That was so far from the truth. Had I known then, right in that moment what was coming my way, I probably would've curled up into a small ball and wished the drain would suck me down with the nasty water it forced away.

But no amount of soap would be able to erase the wounds that would soon come in and cut me.

Nothing was what I woke up knowing. . .

And nothing would be what I wished I had remembered.

---