Page 10 of Riot's Thorn
“Oh, you naive little thorn.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
I lean forward and reach for her. She flinches, but I press on until I’m close enough to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Because I took you thinking you were delicate and beautiful like a rose, but really, you’re just a goddamn thorn in my side.”
CHAPTER THREE
PARKER
Athorn in his side? Is he delusional? I’ve done nothing to him. He’s the one who chose to keep me alive and bring me here. Plus, he’s the one who killed my father.
Sharp, searing pain shoots through my chest, filling me with a deep ache that radiates throughout my body. I glance down and see the dried blood covering me, stark against my pale skin. The grisly images of the day flash before my eyes like scenes from a horror movie, my hands shaking uncontrollably as my teeth to chatter with fear.
He notices and stands, holding out a hand. “What you’re experiencing is the adrenaline draining from your body. The best way to fight it is with a shower.”
I pull my legs into my chest, making myself as small as possible as I shake my head. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“And that right there proves you’re a thorn.”
“Please, just leave me alone.”
“No. The brain matter and blood crusted on your skin is making me uncomfortable, and I don’t want to look at it anymore.”
His careless and indifferent attitude grates on my already-frayed nerves. I’m lost, confused, and scared, and the man apparently protecting me from some unknown threat is the same man who caused all this chaos.
I ignore his outstretched hand, not wanting to touch the man who murdered Dad, but he doesn’t go away. His eyes are cold and flat as his lip curls in disgust, making me feel two inches tall.
“The sight of you is making me sick, so whether you want to or not, you’re showering.”
“You can’t make me.”
His piercing gaze narrows in a silent challenge before my world flips upside down again, and I’m unceremoniously carted through his cabin like a sack of potatoes. My limbs flail wildly as I beat on his back and scream for him to release me, but he doesn’t even flinch. With each useless strike, I am acutely aware of the rippling muscles hidden underneath his shirt, the taut lines of his biceps straining against the fabric. I’m no match for him.
Tile flooring comes into view, and I hear the distinct sound of a shower curtain opening right before he bends over and dumps me inside, clothes and all. A sharp pain radiates from my tailbone, but I welcome the distraction from the emotional pain I can’t seem to process.
“I can make you do whatever I want, Little Thorn.” He turns the temperature dial to the right before pulling on it and sliding the curtain closed. I don’t have time to recover before freezing cold water hits me over the head, taking my breath away and blinding me.
I struggle to stand, but the stupid flip-flops I thought were so cute slip and slide on the wet surface of the shower, my knees and ass crashing into the ceramic tub. Eventually, I pull off my shoes and stand, gasping and shoving my hair off my face.Standing just on the other side of the clear shower curtain ishim, and he’s smirking like he’s won a battle.
“Clothes and a towel.” He holds up a stack and sets them on the counter before leaving, thankfully letting me suffer alone in my humiliation.
I quickly turn the dial to warm. Once my skin has acclimated to that, I turn the dial further, repeating this process until my skin is red and steam billows through the room, fogging the mirror. My shoulders slump as I remove my glasses and struggle to strip myself of my now-soaked and disgusting clothes, all while crying.
What else can I do?
As I dump his shampoo into my palm, I get a whiff of citrus and juniper. I don’t want to like it, but it smells nice. I wash my hair four times, thoroughly scrubbing my scalp until I convince myself it’s clean. There’s no conditioner, which means my hair will be a matted mess, but I couldn’t care less. There’s no face wash either, so I use the same bar of soap on my whole body.
After rinsing, I still feel dirty, so I soap up again. This goes on and on until I’m finally certain I’m clean; I know if I get out of this shower and find any kind of foreign matter on me, I will lose my shit. This whole situation is surreal. I saw my dad get shot, and then I was abducted. This happens in movies, not to boring girls like me.
The water temperature begins to cool, telling me my time is up. My skin is bright red, both from the hot water and my harsh scrubbing, but at least I don’t feel disgusting anymore. I twist my hair into one towel and wrap myself in the other.
As I stand alone, I’m finally able to fully absorb my surroundings. This bathroom is dull and unremarkable. The shower shows years of grime, the vanity is chipped and worn, and the toilet is stained with mold. It’s as if this room has been frozen in time since its installation in the 1980s. The cabinet,adorned with tacky brass hardware, is white but yellowed with age and has baby blue accents. And the walls—oh god, the walls—suffocate me with their peeling, floral wallpaper that seems to be closing in as I stand here, trapped and alone.
The steam begins to clear as I dry my body, actively avoiding the mirror. How I look is a non-issue, and I won’t be making myself presentable for him. I want him to be disgusted by me so he’ll want to keep his distance. He could very obviously overpower me if he wanted, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him.
The clothes he gave me are basic and plain—a black, long-sleeve T-shirt and gray sweatpants—entirely too big on me, but the extra fabric is welcome. It feels like a barrier between me andhim.
So what now? What’s his plan? I’m just supposed to live in this run-down cabin with him for the rest of my life?Ifhe’s telling the truth about people coming after me, and that’s a big if, I’m having a hard time understanding why that’s his problem. He doesn’t seem to have a hard time killing people, but if he’s keeping me because he can’t bring himself to kill a young girl, he could just release me. Those people he told me about would end me for him.
