Page 35 of Marked for Obsession

While she let the water run, Poppy snooped through the cabinets for shampoo, conditioner, and the aforementioned towels. Finding them all stored inside the same cabinet, she grabbed what she needed and set the items on the generously sized vanity.

Once she’d stripped herself of her shirt, panties, and yoga pants, Poppy leaned her backside against the edge of the sink and carefully removed her socks from her tender feet. Following the medic’s instructions, she proceeded to unwind the taupe-colored self-adhesive wrap from each foot—first one and then the other—as well as the padded bandage he’d placed along her soles.

Several spots of dried blood marked the inside of the bandages, but all-in-all, they didn’t look too bad. The cool tile floor felt soothing as she padded her way into the shower, but the warm water falling around her was like a gift from God.

This. This is exactly what I needed.

Closing her eyes, Poppy leaned her head back and let the generous downpour wash away the day. She wasn’t sure how long she stood like that, but by the time she was washed, dried, and dressed in a pair of black leggings and a comfy crewneck sweatshirt, she almost felt like her old self again.

Almost.

With a quick look in the mirror, she began opening drawers in hopes of finding a brush. Luck struck on her fourth try, and Poppy quickly smoothed her damp and wayward strands.

Still, it did nothing to distract from the darkening bruise that had formed across her cheekbone and below her eye.

It wasn’t the first black eye she’d had. When she was nine, a boy named Tommy Hallowell had tried stealing her favorite pen while she’d been drawing during recess. He was a spoiled brat who thought he could have whatever he wanted, so he’d hit her, thinking that would make her give him the pen.

Instead, it made her want to kick him in the balls as hard as she could. So she did.

Tommy ended up getting to go home early because he couldn’t quit crying and holding his crotch. Poppy had been given an ice pack and a free pass to the principal’s office.

They both ended up getting after-school detention that week, but for Poppy, that kick—and the black eye—had been totally worth it. Looking at her own reflection now, however, she wished the only thing she’d stood to lose today was a pen.

You almost lost your life today, Poppy. And for what? A crime no one else believes even happened?

That wasn’t true. Jax believed her. And after today, hopefully the cops would, too. Detective King and his partner, Grady, was it? They’d both sounded as though they did.

They just needed more proof.

With any luck, Jax would help her find it. And maybe, just maybe, this black eye will turn out to be worth it, too.

Returning the brush to its drawer, Poppy hung the used towel on one of two hooks near the shower door and picked up her things. Rolling up her dirty clothes, she started to put them in the lesser filled of the two bags when she noticed something red on the back of the shirt.

Scratch that. She spottedseveralsomethings. Looking closer, she realized it was blood.

A slew of tiny red dots of blood had stained her favorite shirt. Her dad’s shirt that she used to sneak out of his dresser drawer to sleep in the nights he had to work.

After a while, he caught on and one night before bed, Poppy had found the shirt folded in the middle of her bed. On top was a note from her dad telling her she could have it.

He’d signed it with a few X’s and O’s and drew a heart next to the words ‘I love you’.

An onslaught of fresh tears began to form, and for the life of her, Poppy couldn’t seem to stop them. She let her head drop between her shoulders, her fingers squeezing the soiled shirt to the point her knuckles grew white.

Deep down, she knew she wasn’t crying over the shirt. It was everything else that had her feeling as though she wanted to catch the next flight out to Kansas and never look back.

You do that, and today was all for nothing.

The tiny voice seemed to scream the truth in those words. She couldn’t give up. Not now.

With a loud sniffle, Poppy lifted her head, set the clothes down onto the floor next to the nightstand, and then returned to the bathroom. Using several squares of toilet paper, she blew her nose before tossing the soft white ball into the trash.

She reached for the faucet, turning on only the cold water. Rinsing her face, she then went back to her towel and gently patted her skin dry. Poppy held the towel in place, taking a brief moment to collect her composure.

You’ve got this, Pop. You got this.

Refusing to look in the mirror again, she exited the bathroom and went in search of Jax. Though part of her wanted to crawl under the covers and bawl her eyes out some more, wasting her time crying wasn’t going to get them any closer to the truth.

Low voices reached her ears just before she made it to the kitchen. Once there, she found Jax and Ivan standing next to the bar’s edge, their conversation coming to an abrupt halt when they spotted her.

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