Page 25 of Monster
He takes a seat next to me on the bed, but avoids making eye contact, which I’m actually grateful for right now. Without a word, he hands over the plastic bag and then rests his hands back in his lap. I set it next to me on the bed and when I pull open the top and peer inside, I freeze and my grip on the bag tightens, the crinkling of the plastic echoing through the room. My blood runs cold and feels sluggish rushing through my veins. My eyes are locked on the contents of the bag and everything else around me distorts and blurs. I’m not sure if it’s because of the panic I feel crawling up from the base of my spine, or the tears threatening to spill.
Probably both.
I feel a cold hand on top of my own and it snaps me out of my trance. My entire body panics and I jump up from the bed with a scream. I fall to my ass and scramble away, my hands slipping against the slippery linoleum floor. My feet slide as I try to back up further, only serving to make me panic more.
He’s here.
He fucking found me.
He’s going to hurt me so fucking bad this time.
“Essa!” A voice breaks through the fog.
Wait. Who is that?
What’s going on?
“Essa.Please.” I feel that cold hand against my skin, but this time it feels different. It doesn’t feel bad. It feels… comforting. Soothing.
“It’s me, Dominik.”
A weight leaves my chest and I take a much needed deep breath. My entire body is still shaking with fear, but my mind is once again clear, and I can see Dominik crouched in front of me. His arm is outstretched and resting gently on my forearm. I can feel where his fingertips are skimming the worst of my scars—the ones I did myself—but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t make it obvious, which I appreciate. I’m suddenly feeling more than self conscious about them right now.
“Baby girl, it’s me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” He quickly wraps his arms around me when he notices I’m no longer panicking and his cold skin against my own causes chills to erupt all over my skin in a trail of goosebumps and I shiver. He simply holds me tighter and pulls me into his lap sideways. I rest my head against his hard, yet soft, chest and I hear as his heart beats steadily, comforting me.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I close my eyes and focus on the sound of his heart and the feel of his arms around me, simply holding me.
Not hurting me.
I feel as he takes a deep breath, the movement causing my head to rise and fall with the movement of his chest. “You doing okay, baby girl?”
I don’t say anything, not trusting my voice, so I simply nod in response. He rests his chin on the top of my head and runs his right hand up and down my spine, trailing it with the very tips of his fingers.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he mumbles, and his chin bumps the top of my head as he speaks.
“Do I want to talk about the fact I opened a bag with my bloody hoodie from the accident? Not fucking really.” I would roll my eyes, but I can’t bring myself to even open them.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Essa. I gave you the bag because it had other things in it I thought you might want. I also have your other bag in my car. I went back and grabbed it from the car after they took you back for surgery. It was the one and only time I ever left your side and only because I felt like you would want it.
“I know it’s been a month and I should have said something sooner, but I didn’t because I wanted you to focus on healing. If you would have seen it before now, it would’ve sent you over the edge again and I didn’t want that for you.” He brings his hand up my back again and rests it against the nape of my neck, holding me gently as if he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold me to him, I’ll disappear.
“You grabbed my bag? Where is it?” I sit up and twist in his arms. He loosens his hold on me but keeps his hand on my nape. He looks down at me with a deep crease between his black brows.
“Yes?” he says, but it sounds more like a question. “It’s still in my car, why? Do you want me to grab it for you?”
“Yes, please,” I say as I clamber out of his lap, and he stands behind me. He grabs my hands and pulls me into a standing position in front of him. He drops my hands, and they fall to my side. Our eyes lock and it’s almost like we’re in a trance. His deep green eyes seem so full of love, but there is also an edge of sadness to them. It pulls at my heart and when I move my hand to my chest to rub the hurt away, he breaks our eye contact by spinning about and leaving to grab my bag.
I amble over to the window and watch the cars driving on the main road in front of the hospital. A black muscle car drives down the road and my heart pounds heavily before it registers the car is not a Camaro—and even if it was, it wouldn’t be Vincent’s.
He doesn’t know where I am.
Yeah, because you fucking killed him.
Fuck.
I shake my head and turn away from the window with heavy thoughts. I crawl into the small and utterly uncomfortable bed and grab the remote to turn the TV on. It’s hanging from the ceiling above and I have to tilt my neck up too high to be able to see it. It annoys me, but I’m turning it on for some background noise. It’s funny. I always feel overwhelmed by the constant noise and chatter surrounding me, but when I finally get the silence I crave, it’s deafening.
