Tainted Faith

Twenty Five: Venticinque [re-written 16/05/21]

[RE-WRITTEN]

Liliana's eyes watered as she heaved, an acidic taste burned the back of her throat. Mercello's heavy hand glided soothing circles against the bare skin of her back but it didn't relieve the ache swirling deep inside her.

Her stained shirt was discarded somewhere on the bathroom floor and she sat curled against the toilet edge as her stomach propelled upwards and her dinner was lost. The rush of running water pooling in their claw foot tub was the only thing she could hear past the rush of blood in her ears. They'd barely made it inside the bedroom before Liliana's frantic hands had ripped and tugged forcefully at her shirt to get rid of it. The ugly scrap of once white material felt grossly heavy against her body, weighing her into the carpet, pulling her down so that she could not stand on her feet without Mercello beside her. Not that it had been long before she'd crumbled to her knees in the bathroom to empty her violently churning stomach.

Now all adrenaline had worn off, all Liliana could focus on was the heaviness of her limbs, the throbbing of her head and the numbness that had settled everywhere else. She hadn't spoken once. Even if she tried, she wasn't sure she could. Her throat felt tight, and painful, and the feel of that man's hands wrapped around her neck still lingered.

But Marcello had not stopped speaking. The gentle hush of his voice brushed across the back of her neck, as he leant in close and held back the few loose strands of hair that escaped its elastic hold. The sound was perhaps the only think keeping her grounded, keeping her present, here in the bathroom beside him. His voice was an anchor, preventing her from slipping away and receding into herself.

Her retching lasted no longer than five minutes but Liliana was exhausted. She didn't know whether it was the blow to her head or the sight of that body lying in such a way across the carpet, that had her feeling so disorientated, and her chest tight, heart heavy. There had bene so much blood out there. A stain like that would never come out, and she didn't think she could walk past such a reminder every day.

Stumbling to her feet, Marcello gripping her forearms tightly, she rushed to the sink, scrubbing her stained hands and arms furiously under scorching water. The blood had dried an ugly, dark colour against her tan skin and could only be removed after thorough scratching at it.

Blunt nails dug into her arms, clawing at the blood under the hot water. As the blood washed away, her skin was left pink and sore.

"Liliana," Marcello's firm voice broke through her tearful mumbling. It was his tight grip on her wrist that had her retreating into his chest, pulling her hands out from under the water. "It's okay, it wasn't your fault." His voice turned to a soft whisper. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back and after minutes of standing there with him in silence, her breaths evened out to follow the gentle rhythm. "Let's get you cleaned up properly, I have someone on their way to check on you."

A glance in the mirror above the sink showed there to be far more blood that Liliana first thought, her neck was drenched and smears of it were streaked across the flushed skin of her face. The fall of her tears had carved a path through the filthy mask. Beneath the blood on her neck, where her skin still showed she could see the pink imprints of fingers around her throat, the visible injury that had her throat feeling hoarse every time she swallowed.

Liliana nodded in silence, turning to face Marcello with her eyes cast to the ground. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that a doctor wasn't needed, that she just wanted to crawl into their bed and sleep - but even in such distress she knew not to be so stupid. The hit to her head had been hard. Sleeping it off was probably one of the worst things she could do right now.