Page 54 of Wreck Me

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, easing up on the pressure as I continued to clean her face. Once satisfied, I moved to the medicine cabinet for antibiotic ointment, uncapping it and applying some on a cotton swab to layer onto the cuts. “I don’t see any glass, and the cuts are very superficial. They won’t scar.”

She nodded and offered me a small smile that didn’t meet her eyes. Her fear had turned into sadness, and it wreaked havoc on my heart.

I swallowed thickly, afraid to ask my next question, but knew I needed to. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Did he lay a hand on you, Isla?”

Isla shook her head no and croaked, “Where were you, Caleb?”

My heart completely disintegrated in my chest. My gaze dropped to the floor before I mustered the courage to look at her again. “I’m so sorry. I completely lost track of the time. After shaving, I took a shower. When I finally got out, dressed, and turned off the bathroom fan, I heard the glass shatter. I had no idea you were inside the house, or even there yet,” I explained, feeling like a complete asshole. “My phone was in my room, and when I went into the bathroom, I still had a half an hour…” my voice trailed off.

I was completely at fault, and I knew it. If I had paid better attention to the time, or brought my phone into the bathroom with me, I would have known it was past eight, or seen her text message. I would have known she was there and I could have gone outside and this would have all been avoided. “Isla, I’m so sorry.”

She looked broken.

Shattered.

All the light was gone from her eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” she stated, though her voice was small and void of emotions.

I jumped to my feet, desperately wanting to fix this in any way I could. Leaning over, I started the shower, pushing the handle all the way to hot. Water rained down from the shower head and within seconds a thick steam wafted up from the shower’s tile floor. I watched, transfixed on the steam, my own shock starting to sink in.

“Caleb,” she said quietly, and my gaze immediately connected back to hers. “I don’t want to shower. Can we please just go to bed?”

Nodding, I turned the faucet off, watching the water cease immediately. I blew out a shaky breath, forcing my own emotions down as I reached for her hand, pulling her to stand. We walked across the hall to her bedroom hand in hand, mine cupping hers as I led her into the dark space.

I didn’t bother turning on the lights.

Isla stripped out of her clothes, toeing off her shoes before tugging her jeans down her legs. She was careful not to let her shirt touch her face as she pulled it over her head and tossed it into her laundry basket. Opening her dresser drawer, I watched as she removed one of my t-shirts and shrugged it on, letting it fall to the tops of her thighs.

Once she was done, I pulled back her duvet, welcoming her comfortable bed to her, and she climbed inside, curling up on her side and bringing her knees up toward her chest as I covered her with the blanket. “I’m going to run back down to the car and grab my stuff, Starlight.”

I didn’t want to leave her, but I wanted to grab my things and crawl in bed beside her and just let the world fade away.

“Okay,” she said, staring across the room at the wall. I watched her for a few quiet moments before I left the room, grabbing her keys from where I had tossed them on her entryway table, and locked her apartment up behind me.

* * *

Isla’ssoft breathing as she slept safely beside me did nothing to ease the chaos inside my head. One sentence haunted my every thought, replaying and keeping me from falling asleep.

“I killed you! I fucking killed you, you bitch!”

The crimson sight of blood spatter illuminated behind my closed eyes. I squeezed them shut, wishing the vision away, but I couldn’t push my dad’s voice from my head, wondering if I should take it at face value.

It was a possibility—a slim one, but still a possibility—he had been spewing nonsense, some left over thoughts or dialogue from something he watched on TV I knew I was reaching, but I couldn’t fathom the idea of him killing anyone, let alone his wife. Mymother.

But it was plausible, and the thought killed me.

Sleep refused to come, and I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but I couldn’t get the feeling of my skin crawling to dissipate.

I pulled Isla’s body close to me, cradling her against me in a little spoon position, and laid my hand against the top of her breasts, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she slept. It calmed me, and between the warmth of her body and the soft sounds of her breaths, I was able to sleep eventually, though it didn’t last long.

Nightmares plagued my sleep—feminine screams, a child crying, and the metallic glint of blood—drifting through my consciousness and snapping me awake despite the heaviness of my eyes. I was exhausted in every sense of the word, both mind and body, but around five in the morning I finally gave up on sleep and peeled myself out of bed, closing her bedroom door behind me as I moved in the direction of her small galley-style kitchen. Shadows filtered around the room as the moon shone through the windows, disappearing when I flipped on the light.

Isla had one of those single-cup coffee machines that took a few minutes to warm up before you could put your pod in. While I waited, I pulled out a coffee mug and placed it on the drip tray, before opening her refrigerator, pulling out the half gallon of milk I had bought for her last week. When the gurgling noises of the coffee machine had ceased, I placed a pod of coffee into it and clicked the brew button, zoning out on the flow of the liquid as it poured from the machine.

After throwing a splash of milk into my coffee, I put it away and gripped my mug by the handle and took a large sip. The coffee burned my mouth, the singe of heat coursing down my throat as I swallowed it down. I welcomed the discomfort, happy to feel pain in another area of my body instead of it being radiated solely in my chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Isla asked, leaning against the wall of the hallway opening up into her kitchen and living room. She had wrapped a pink plush blanket around her body, wearing part of it over her head like a hood.

---