Page 55 of Beyond Rosy Irish Twilight

22

JADE

I woke to the dim morning light and sighed heavily. I was still here. I’d slept dreamlessly, but that was only because when I woke up right before dark, he knocked me out again when I started panicking. In the light of day, with some time passing, I felt a little better. I still didn’t want to face the day or the memories that would haunt me, but I didn’t feel that growing panic settling in my chest, and that had to be a good thing.

I had to pee, so I rolled to my side, only to meet a hard body. Asher was lying next to me, sleeping like the dead. He looked absolutely terrible with dark bruises under his eyes and a bandage covered in blood on his side. I swallowed down the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I would not cry. I would not freak out over what happened. I was stronger than this.

Taking a deep breath, I turned away from him and rolled to the other side, only to meet another hard body.

“What the fuck?” I whispered when I saw Patrick laying on the other side of me.

He grinned up at me, lazily running his hand over his chest on his uninjured side. “Hey, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

He shrugged, wincing slightly. “Peaches are a fresh treat, and on this fine morning, I thought of how juicy and good they are.”

“And…you thought calling me juicy and good was the way to go.”

He shrugged, then struggled to push himself up into a sitting position. “It’s not that I think you’re juicy…or not juicy,” he said, eyeing me warily, as if that was an insult. “It just fit.”

“Move,” I sighed. “I have to pee.”

He gently rolled to the side with a groan, then pushed himself up, stretching slightly as he stood. “You need help?”

“Peeing? No, thank you.”

My body felt like I’d run a marathon I hadn’t trained for as I stood. My muscles were sore and my ankle hurt like a bitch. I hobbled over to what I assumed was the bathroom and shut the door before Patrick could follow me inside. It was weird enough to wake up next to Asher. Seeing Patrick on the other side of me was even more odd.

I hobbled over to the sink and rested my hands on the counter. It took a few moments to talk myself into looking in the mirror. I was afraid of what I would see looking back at me. In the end, I decided to pee first. And after that, I was even less inclined to look at myself, so I decided to take a shower.

I turned on the hot water, but realized that would burn the cuts on my ankle. I settled for lukewarm water and stepped inside. I stood underneath the spray, letting it flow over my face. I prayed it would wash away the pain and memories, but every time I closed my eyes, I still felt like I was back in that motel, then back in that cell.

The door swung open and I yelped, scrambling to the corner of the shower, sure that someone was here to kill me. My heart raced out of control as I huddled there, waiting for the curtain to be torn back.

“Just me, Peaches. Gotta pee,” Patrick called out.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. A wave of dizziness washed over me as my senses became overloaded. I grabbed onto the bar in the shower, hoping I didn’t fall and crack my head open. I couldn’t handle this. I couldn’t just go back to my life after what just happened. It was all too much. I didn’t want to be here!

“Peaches?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I took a shaky breath, opening my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

“You okay in there?”

I tried again, but still struggled to even take a full breath. Water. The shower curtain. My toes. The soap. I took a deep breath and started counting things I could feel. The shower floor. The handle I was gripping. My wet hair.

“Peaches?” he called again. “Answer me, or I’m coming in there.”

“I’m fine!” I finally called out. I wasn’t calm by any means, but at least I could croak out an answer.

“You’re sure? What’s going on?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and kept taking deep breaths. I was fine. I was safe. Feeling panic right now was completely normal. These were rational feelings. I had been taken. If I wasn’t terrified, that would be strange. I was not going crazy. I just needed to breathe. My feelings were valid.

The curtain started to jerk open, and I grabbed it, holding it in place. From somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I summoned the courage to fight through the panic. “Can I take a shower in peace?” I asked, my voice still shaking. At least I was able to answer him.

“What’s going on?”

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