𝓦𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼

❃ Chapter Fifteen - Perfect

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Zoe
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Elijah could not get any more perfect.

How I reached that conclusion, you wonder?

Well… after I woke up and realized he had gone back to his room, I decided to get out of bed, stretch a little and have a shower. When I stood up on the bed, my back screamed from the wounds, reminding me why I had fallen asleep so fast the day before… and why I slept on my belly, which I usually hadn't.

Memories from the night before threatened to barge in, but I shoved them into a room and locked it tight before I could start crying.

Forcing myself to throw my feet off the bed, I clenched the sheets from the effort, remaining hunchbacked. If I stood straight, the wounded area would wrinkle, bleed and hurt more than it already had.

Afraid of stepping off the bed, I looked around for some kind of help. Instead I caught sight of the silk robe draped on the foot of the bed, staining the white sheets with a tint of pink. I hated that clothing material just as much as the rest of the clothes in my wardrobe, but I couldn't deny the fact that I needed it.

Just in case Elijah came in at the wrong moment. Just in case, even tho I doubted it would occur. He was such a gentlemen, he didn't come in uninvited except for yesterday.

I snatched the robe off the bed and sloppily slid it on, pulling the lapels together at the front and tying it tightly. Not that I could hide much. I had on a pair of panties and my upper body was almost completely covered by bandages. All I could hide were the bandages that he had seen the day before.

The thought of him seeing my scars and my wounds had me shuddering. The shame that struck was undescribable. If he saw any of them he would think I were weak. Yesterday when he had seen the bandages, he teared up. It hurt me to see him so vulnerable. I didn't want him to worry about me… even worse, pity me.

Shoving that train of thought in the same chamber I buried the memories of my whipping, I slowly slid out of bed, holding onto the mattress for dear life.

A WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? escaped my back as I dragged one foot after another. The tears and the moans that came with the effort were nothing compared to what my body was fighting to heal. Just as I reached the end of the bed, I broke down in tears, the agony too overwhelming.

I tried to take a step to the bathroom through my sobs and hiccups, but as my hand lost contact with the bed, so did my balance, gravity pulling me down to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The straighten of my back had me crying harder, the pain shouting for me to relax.

I rolled onto my side and curled into a ball. The need to heave hit me like a truck, making me hold my stomach with both arms and struggle with a very strong lump in my throat.

The crying got worse, the hiccups almost making me lose the little control I had over my stomach that wanted to spill every nothing I had in the past twenty four hours.

"Narah?"

Oh, God, could this get any better? I didn't want him to see me like this! Like I was an incapable nothing who couldn't even go to the bathroom and get a damned bandage fixed!

"Jesus Christ!" His hiss came from behind me, and before I knew it, his hands were gently holding my shoulders.

I moaned my protest, snatching myself from his touch. "No… leave me!"

I heard his deep sigh and then a heavy inhale. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just tell me to leave when you clearly need a hand." He said a little bitterly, before continuing in a warmer tone, "Tell me if it hurts, alright?"