Gray and Green // Michael Gray

Mutual Feelings

I sat in the bathtub as orange water washed down the drain.

Michael stood at the end of the bathtub, his dress shirt unbuttoned and no pants, just boxers as he picked out every shard of glass out of my back and dropped them into a bowl. It hurt every time he touched me.

He rinsed the blood off my back, making me pull my knees closer to my bare torso. My hair was clipped up so it wasn't in the way, it made me look like a fool.

"You should have come to us once he did this," Michael told me as he pulled another piece out. "I would've hunted him down and killed him."

I laughed. "Your last words to me were 'fuck you,' Michael. At that moment I wouldn't have turned to you for anything." I shot back, attempting to hurt his feelings. "Still wouldn't."

He nodded. "You're still beautiful even with your back looking like this." The compliment made me mad.

"You look the same, just more hair gel." I said softly.

His hand moved to my shoulder, gripping it lightly. His fingers dusted my collar bones as he dabbed a washcloth at my back.

"I would've never guess you were a doctor. This is terrible." He said, dropping another piece into the bowl.

"I took a shower and went to bed. I didn't care." I hugged my knees tighter, straining my back.

Michael's grip tightened in my shoulder. "Stop straining your back. You're making yourself bleed more."

I obliged, untensing my back. My body twitched at every prick of the tweezers, every touch to my skin. I wasn't used to being cleaned up like this.

I saved people. During the war, I saved over 600 soldiers over the four years. I didn't know what side they were on, but I still saved them. I made it so they were able to go back to their families. Now, I look like a fool.

"Something wrong?" Michael asked as he saw me wipe a tear from my eye.

I shook my head.

"Well something's obviously fucking wrong. You're crying." Even the curse he said made tears rush to my eyes. I was so weak and nobody knew it.

"It hurts." I mumbled.

He scoffed. "Bulllshit."

I shifted in the bathtub, now wanting to talk about anything. I wanted to be quiet. I wanted to go home. I wanted everything to be okay.

"I hate myself." I said blankly.

Michael set down the bowl and tweezers, then walked to the front of the tub. His hands grazed my cheekbones as he cupped my face, peering into my eyes.

At that moment, everything was perfect. There was no Changretta. My back wasn't cut up. There weren't any threats. It was just him and I in the bathroom.

"I've lived 23 years Michael, and I feel like I've accomplished nothing. I have a business, so what?" Tears trickled down my face. He wiped them with his thumb, listening to my words.

"The church, for god's sake. It haunts me every night." I sobbed. "Hughes is always coming into my room, walking towards my bed and god," I breathed in, sobbing. "Why the hell do you think I drink so much? I'm sober about 25 percent of the time, Michael. Half my money goes towards booze."

His thumbs wiped the tears off my face. He couldn't hug me, but he could hold my hands. That's what he did. Clasp our fingers together as cried like a child in their bathtub.

"you're going to be alright, Anna." He spoke softly. "Everything's Alright."

I ignored his words, focusing on my own breathing. My chest was going up and down, I had started sweating. My back was tense and I could feel the blood rushing down the lines of my back.