Page 3 of Bottoms
“I want the pain, Fynn,” I said.
He had found the vial he was looking for and filled a needle with the contents. Stepping closer, he inserted the drug into the IV attached to my left arm. Since my shoulder was hurting and I hadn't been moving much, I hadn't noticed.
Whatever he pushed into my veins started to work quickly, and I found myself slowly drifting away on the current of my mind. I wasn’t sure how bad the pain would be when I woke up, but for now, I allowed the darkness to swallow me again. I had a feeling this was my only chance to rest.
Fynn didn’t take away the pain medications after a day, like I asked. Instead, I lived between the dark abyss and the few waking hours he would give me each day to ensure I ate. Each time I came to, I was bound to the bed, receiving spoonfuls of some bland mush that faintly resembled oatmeal.
Fynn never warned or asked me before he decided I had enough to eat, and pushed another dose of darkness through my veins. Tanner, Nik, and Colten’s face had found their way to me whenever I found myself back in the abyss. In my mind, I chased after their laughing, retreating forms while the shadow of death stalked behind me.
“Nessa.”
I heard my name, calling me out of the pit I would eventually sink into when I ran out of streets to run through. The sound pulled me up and back into my aching body, tied to the bed. Only this time, when I opened my eyes, I noticed my arms and legs were no longer secured.
Looking around, I saw Fynn sitting on a mechanic’s chair. His form was half-shrouded by the deep shadows of the basement. With his chin propped up on his fist, his long hair fell to his shoulders in silky waves. He looked like someone you would want to approach in a biker bar, but the devilish smirk across his face betrayed his intentions. Our gazes locked, and his boots pushed against the concrete floor, propelling him and the stool toward me. His hands grabbed onto the seat between his legs while he rode over to me, his smile growing as he traveled.
“I think you’re past the worst of it now,” he said with a smile as he stopped beside the bed.
“I thought I said I wanted the pain,” I groaned, turning my head to face him, but my voice sounded like someone had rubbed my vocal cords with gravel before I spoke.
“I’ll find ways to give you the pain you requested, Nessa. Having you suffer through the first week of healing could have seriously damaged our relationship.” He winked at me after he said it, and a hard knot settled into my stomach.
“We don’t have a relationship,” I bit out, my shredded tone working perfectly to depict my rage.
“Of course we do,” he tsked. Sitting up to run bandaged fingers through his hair before his gaze settled on me, dark and dangerous as he dared me to oppose him. “I’m part of your life now, Nessa. That’s a relationship. We could find mutual benefits in our relationship, or it can be full of torment. We just haven’t defined it yet.”
There was a lot of “we” in that statement.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I said, moving slowly to sit up. My skin stretched uncomfortably, like I was covered in a clear wrap instead of flesh. At least the headache had disappeared.
“Three cocks your limit, then?” he asked with a smirk before his feet pushed off the floor. This time he sailed away from me, into a different dark corner of the basement. I heard him rustling around, but I couldn’t see him anymore.
It wasn’t the best chance, but at least it was something. I attempted to swing off the bed and run for the stairs. The moment I went to stand, my legs gave out on me. I crumbled to the floor in a heap while white-hot pain shot through my left arm and shoulder. I had not checked whether the IV line was removed along with my binds. It ripped out of my arm in my attempt to escape, causing a nauseating pain to sweep through me. The shoulder that housed the healing bullet wound screamed out its lack of consideration before I had decided to get out of bed.
“I’m starting to think you came out of your chrysalis a masochist,” Fynn said, walking back towards me. He squatted down to smirk while I lay in a pathetic heap on the floor. He placed a plastic cup of water with a multicolored crazy straw next to me. It explained what Fynn had been doing in the shadows.
I pushed off the floor with my good arm, propping my head. I was almost level with his bent knee. My eyes traveled over the worn threads of his jeans and continued up his body. He wore a loose shirt that looked like it was soft. My left arm protested as I lifted my hand up to reach out and see if the material was as smooth as it looked.
Fynn reacted immediately, grabbing the cup of water and helping to fit it in my hand. I took it with a small smile. Fighting against jerky movements to bring the straw to my dry lips rather than contemplate my momentary glitch.
There wasn’t anything special about his shirt. Don’t touch the crazy ones.
The water felt cool and refreshing as it slid down my throat and tempered the flames of my thirst. My sips became gulps as I tried to force as much of the liquid into my body as I could handle. The cup was ripped from my hand a second later, and my stomach chose that moment to set off the alarm that things were not right.
I barely turned my head in time before most of the water reappeared. My stomach retched as I threw up, until the last of my stomach acid had vacated. Warmth stretched through me as if I suddenly had a fever. I couldn’t do anything other than lower my shaking body back to the floor, barely avoiding the puddle of bile.
“You might go through some withdrawal from the pain medications,” Fynn said. His hand stroked through my hair as it stuck to my forehead.
I mentally cussed him out while my teeth chattered too much to allow me to form words. I didn’t do anything when he bent down and picked me up off the floor. Rather than placing me back in the bed, he carried me up the steps with me cradled against his chest.
Light shone through the dirty windows of the house, but all I could see were trees outside as Fynn walked. His boots echoed, and I noticed the sounds of the city were pointedly missing. I wasn’t even in a city anymore, let alone New York.
He carried me into a bathroom, turning the knob to blast water into the drain. The shower looked about the size of a closet, and the tile floor was missing chunks. My body moved towards the ground as Fynn bent down to place me directly under the torrent of water, drenching his long, blond hair and shirt. After being pressed against the material during the trip upstairs, I could state that it was, in fact, as soft as it looked.
He pulled away, leaving me alone under the stream as it soaked through the thin gown covering my body. My knees pulled to my chest to hide, but he didn’t linger. Turning and leaving the bathroom, he shut the door behind him as he went.
While my arms loosely hugged my ankles, my head tilted into the space between my knees and chest. The water sprayed directly on my head and down my back. Hammering out a soothing pattern that reminded me of rain. My body slowly stopped shaking as the water turned warm and helped to fight off the remaining chill.
My muscles warmed under the spray, and eventually, I could stand on unsteady feet. The gown had gotten stuck beneath my foot and tore away quickly, leaving me entirely exposed to the torrent. There was a bar of soap sitting on a ledge, and I worked to slowly rid my body of the mixture of fresh and old blood.
