Page 83 of Lie with Me
“Don’t fucking compare yourself to me. We don’t even breathe the same air.”
“Maybe not, but we fuck the same pussy. You’re no better than me whether you want to believe it or not.”
“I don’t believe it because it’s not true.” I stand up. We’re done here.
“Whatever you say, but I can tell you this, we’re both men and we both live for the same reasons, money, power and pussy. You sit on your high horse all you want. At the end of the day we eat, piss and fuck the same way.”
“I hope that notion keeps you warm in cell block six.”
“It won’t, but I won’t be there forever.” His tone is hostile. I stop dead in my tracks and turn on my heel.
“I will say this only once. Don’t get any bright ideas about retaliation. Or I’ll bury you. Literally, while you’re still breathing. I live outside the law and I can guarantee no one will come looking for a scumbag like you.”
Nino remains silent, but his sharp eyes say it all. He wants to rip me apart, but will think twice before he does.
I bang on the door. “Guard!”
“Make sure you change the bandages on your wrists,wouldn’t want to get a life threatening infection.” He mocks.
“I will be sure to take your advice.” I snarl at him as I walk out the door.
Goodbye and good riddance.
I head back to the hospital hoping Tara is still asleep. It’s still fairly early in the morning, and they have her doped up on some pretty serious pain meds. I don’t want her to know where I went. I don’t want her to have to think about Nino or Slade ever again.
I received the answers I came for, now it’s time move on.
I STAND NAKED IN FRONTof the mirror as the bathroom fills with steam. CJ and I were discharged from the hospital only three days ago, yet it feels like a lifetime since we were there. I often question if it was all a dream, question if something so horrific was actually capable of happening. But every time I move, I’m reminded it was real. My heart starts to pound in the dead center of my chest as I twist in front of the mirror and peel a little corner of the bandage away. I see just a small bit of the raw, pink flesh, and I become lightheaded. I lean on the countertop and breathe through the panic.It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.Slade is dead, and Nino is in jail. But I will always be scarred. I will always be reminded of my reckless decisions and the consequences of my actions.
I feel disgusting. Like a mutilated monster who should be hiding in a dark, damp, secluded cave. Not living in a penthouse suite with all the amenities, including the handsome prince. Disney sure as hell would never animate this fucked-up fairy tale.
“Tara?” CJ calls before he enters the bathroom. I turn the faucet on and splash my face as fast as I can, attempting to pretend like I’m holding it together. He turns off the running water in the tub and then comes to stand behind me.
“Are you trying to turn the bathroom into a sauna?” he asks with big, brown inquisitive eyes.
“No, I was just . . .” I don’t come up with a good lie fast enough.
Because I have to keep my bandages dry, I am reduced to taking sponge baths for the next few weeks. That was my intention when I first came in here, but I was sidetracked. I should have never taken my clothes off in front of the mirror. I’ve avoided looking at myself for the last three days, but I guess my curiosity got the better of me.
“You were just what?” he probes.
“I was just . . .” Tears brim in my eyes. “Just looking.” I breathe out. “I’m deformed.”
CJ’s face drops. “You’re not deformed. Tara, you’re beautiful.”
“How can you say that? I’ll never be able to wear a bathing suit or a tank top or even a wedding dress without everyone seeing it. Without everyone wondering what happened to me. I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t even want you to look at me.”
“Tara.” CJ spins me around to face him. I cover my breasts with my arms and slouch.
“No one has to know. We can have it fixed. There are procedures or you can cover it up with a tattoo.”
“Over my entire back?”
“Why not? It can be a work of art. Something you identify with, maybe sheet music of the same song that’s on your leg?”
I ponder this. I never even considered covering up the scars.
“It doesn’t turn you off?” I ask self-consciously, lifting my head only slightly to look him. “Seeing what he did.”
