Page 80 of Mortala
"I'd like to even it for you.Do you want me to do that?"I aim for consent this go around since we typically press the other’s buttons and take shots until someone complies.
To show her I'm serious, I twist and pick up what I need.I don’t want her to see her reflection like this, not when she’s already torn up.She’ll break all over again.
I may have more skill with a razor, but at least if I even her hair out, her reflection won’t be as jarring.And when she's better, I'll take her to a real hair dresser and let them finish what we both started.
Sitting on the side of the tub, Sadie's shoulders tense.I'm not going to hurt her, she knows that, but actions scream when you can't trust yourself.I don’t fault her for not trusting me.
Like ignoring a falling child who looks for help, I reach into the water, cup it, and begin pouring it over her shoulders and down her back.Her bones are prominent—vertebrae sit millimeters under the skin, ready to slice through and taunt me.She’s already underweight; days without eating and mistreating herself has taken its toll.
Sure wish I knew where the woman was from a month or two ago.The vicious one who busted my lip and had me eager to see her.I know she's in there, I just have to show her it's safe to come out.
So, I keep rinsing.
A flicker of warmth flutters in my chest when I see goosebumps poke their tiny heads up before hiding again.Slowly, some of her tension fades with them.
She’s always so responsive.
That's right, Sunshine.Show me you're still in there.
"Going to brush your hair now.Then trim the longer pieces.There's not many, alright?"
She answers with the slightest nod—I'll take it.
Leaving the scissors on the tub's edge, I run the brush through her hair with easy strokes to break up the tangles.Weary over pulling too much or too hard, when I find a rat's nest that's uncooperative, I shift and work from the bottom up instead.
If she had her long hair still, we would be at this forever, so maybe cutting it is a blessing in disguise.
Once they're out, I reach for her shoulder and straighten her up.She’s warm under my touch after soaking, thank God.She's clean, smells better, and looks better—baby steps.
Here we go.
Grabbing the scissors, I use my non-dominant hand to brush a section and snip the longer piece closer to the same length as the rest.Then repeat.
At the foot of her bed, I’ve been watching her sleep.She’s tuckered out.When I went to help her out of the bath to dry off, she freaked out.First was hysterical sobbing.Then dissociation as I placed butterfly stitches to seal her wounds; thankfully, most of them weren’t too deep.As long as she keeps them clean, they’ll do fine.
The ones on the left arm were the worst.I had to glue them instead.Shit burns, and if you set it wrong, that’s where it stays.Is the work perfect?No, but I did my best as she jerked around.At least they’re closed and wrapped to protect the glue from her ravaged fingernails.
After that was the yelling and screaming.Then Sadie broke down when she couldn’t find her phone with her dosing alarms.So, we had to start over.Now the reminder’s on mine, and I'll be counting the pills every day.She has an excess, but I'll throw the extra away once we get a refill.
When I finally gave her what she needed to take, she got all pissy because I crushed and put them in water.I don’t trust her not to cheek them for later.I've seen my fair share of soldiers who abused their pills, and she's definitely riding that train.
At least she's out now, angry even in her sleep.With brows pinched and a scowl on her face.Fucking hell.Alright, back to work.
Number infinity: Hide everything she can hurt herself with.
Chapter twenty-seven
Sunshine
Ihavenoideahow long I was out before Elias showed up.Half of it feels like a fever dream.Bits and pieces were real—I think they were.Not like I can remember.
He's been here since, like my own private sentry who doesn't know the meaning of clocking out.Half of me loves having him here when my eyes open, the other half is ready to strangle him.
Speaking of, I’ve slept so much, I don’t know what day it is anymore.Sure, I could look at my phone, but what good would that do when I don't know when I went manic to begin with?
As a matter of fact, don't ask me where the stupid thing is, anyway.It disappeared into the ether of this apartment and died.I still hate the fucking thing, so maybe I’ll stop complaining.
Anyway, I woke up a little while ago in agony.Every muscle, tendon, bone, cell, and atom in my body are sitting beneath the crushing weight of time and space in the form of a sheet.It’s barely draped over me but feels more like fifty-grit sandpaper and a battleship.It rasps across my skin anytime I think about moving, driving me mad.
