War of A Rose

War of a Rose • Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two
Rosaelia

Alessio scooped me into his arms and gently placed me in our tub. The water was warm and he kept the faucet running as he bathed me, wiping the blood and dirt off of my skin. I hugged my knees to chest while he ran the washcloth down my back. He took his time gliding the soap across every inch of skin. He made sure every inch of me was cleaned. I breathed in the honey scented soap, trying to distract myself, trying to forget the smell of my vomit. I still felt sick and I would've puked again if there had been something left in my stomach.

I couldn't get the thought of my father out of my head. He had won again. I had killed his men. I killed one of the men who raped me, but he still won. He broke me again. He killed my mamma. He hurt my family. I folded myself over my knees, hiding my head between my arms. Alessio's hand caressed my neck, sliding up to massage my scalp. He was here. He was touching me. And I still didn't feel safe. I felt like shit especially after hearing him tell me what he would do to keep me safe. I trusted him. I believed him. But that didn't change the fact that my father was still alive. And he wouldn't stop until I was dead.

And I knew that there were no limits, no stopping. He had already killed his wife. My mother. He broke into my home. Hurt my friends, my family. And he did all of this because of me.

Alessio's touch was gentle, yet firm, as he worked the soap into my skin. He could feel the tension in my body, the fear that still lingered even as he tried to wash it away. He didn't say anything, knowing that words would only make it worse. Instead, he focused on his task, rubbing the cloth over my arms, my legs, my chest, and my stomach.

After a few moments, he leaned in and whispered, "You're safe now, Rosaelia. I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

But even as he said the words, he knew that they were hollow. He couldn't make that promise, not really. He couldn't control the actions of others, couldn't stop someone like my father who seemed to have no limits, no boundaries.

I turned my head to look at him, my eyes searching his face for some kind of reassurance. I found it in the depths of his blue eyes, the love that burned bright even in the darkness of our situation. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe that everything would be okay, that we could face whatever came our way together.

But then the memories came flooding back, the fear and the pain and the uncertainty. I shuddered, feeling the tears begin to well up in my eyes once again. "I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling the weight of my own vulnerability crushing me.

Alessio's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to his chest. "Don't be sorry, little rose," he said, his voice soft and comforting. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Alessio continued to wash me, his touch soothing and comforting. For the first time since the attack, I began to relax. I leaned back into the tub, closing my eyes and focusing on the sound of the running water. Alessio's hands moved over my body, washing away the last traces of the horror that I had endured. And for a moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay. At some point he slid into the water and pulled me into him.

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, until the water began to cool and Alessio helped me out of the tub. He dried me off carefully, wrapping me in a fluffy towel before leading me to the bedroom, where he laid me down on the bed. He climbed in beside me, pulling the covers over us both.

I snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. "Thank you," I whispered.

Alessio kissed my forehead. "For what?"