Dollface

Part 54

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We finally settled into my bedroom. Simon is on his back, barely breathing because of the pain it causes when his diaphragm expands in his chest. I know my eyes are puffy because I can feel it and the skin around them itches with stained, salty tears.

Marco follows us up the stairs and bangs furiously on the door as I lock the door behind me. His constant knocking aroused me more than I already was, but as I wipe the tears from my face, I decided to tend to Simon's injuries.

I find a hair tie, then pull my hair back from my face in a ponytail. My hands shake a little, but I use all my emotional strength to push the pain away.

Those same hands help me crawl onto the bed next to Simon's weak body and unbutton his shirt, revealing the already visible bruises on his flawless skin, mostly around his ribs. They looked unbearable, no wonder he could barely breathe.

I sniff and wipe my palm across my damp cheeks before removing the shirt completely as carefully as possible. The last thing I want to do now is hurt him even more than he already is.

I closed my eyes for a moment after seeing the horrible purple bruises that looked like they could suffocate him. I hate seeing him like this, it brought pain and made my heart ache, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling.

I gently run my fingers over the reddened skin of his stomach. The warmth beneath my hands seems fragile; A word I never thought I would use to describe anything under Simon's personality or appearance.

The blood stains on his nose become too much for me to look at, so I use a small damp towel that I soak with the water from my bathroom to wipe off any blood stains left on his face.

His breathing is short, which worries me. The heavy bruising around his ribcage makes it hard for his chest to expand with each inhale. I run my fingers through his hair, pausing my remedies for a moment to confront him.

My free hand gently feels around his ribs, feeling for anything unusual other than the bruises.

I: Don't breathe like that, you're making your body hyperventilate.

He turns his head to look at him, and briefly studies my face.

I: I know it hurts, but at least it will keep you from suffocating.

Simom takes my advice and starts breathing more calmly, clenching his jaw tight in pain, God, my ruthless father hurt him so much...

Then I go to get some more towels, and since I don't have any ice, I run them under cold water, hoping they would ease some of the pain. They make him shudder when I place them around the most irritated areas. I'm amazed when his hand wraps around my wrist and moves down to take my hand. I look at the contact with my lips parted before returning my eyes to him.

He just holds mine in his. That's all he does.

My thumb rubs his hand while I use my free one to continue placing towels over his body.

M: Miss, you open that door now! I'm not kidding!

Marco bangs on the door again, his Italian accent clear in his voice. I roll my eyes excitedly even though I don't speak; Simon does though.

S: Someone fucking shoot your tongue out.

The tone of his voice is hoarse, hoarser than usual. I agree with him but don't reply. Instead, I stroke his fluffy curls and sigh heavily to myself. Simon's eyes look up at me as he clears his throat and his actions surprise me.

His hand reaches up to cup my chin and he pulls my face down to his as our noses touch, his eyes following my entire face. I'm careful not to touch his injuries and keep my hands on either side of his head to keep myself upright.

S: I-
I: Don't... don't apologize again.
S: Thirsty.

He finished with a neutral expression, making me blush slightly in embarrassment as a sigh leaves my lips.

I: I'll get you some water.

He lets go of me as I stand. Marco is behind the door as I swing it open. His posture straightens and he tries to peek into the bedroom, but I hastily close the door.

M: I really don't think it's safe for you to be alone in a room with the enemy.

Marco rambles as he follows me down the stairs. I remember when Simon followed me everywhere, but the glorious part was that Tom was quiet and I remember finding that annoying.

I walk over to the fridge in the kitchen, filled with my father's men all snacking on food. I paid them no attention when they were ordered to do the same.

I grab a bottle from the fridge and ignore the sudden silence in the room. Marco tries to stop me from going back into the bedroom once we reach the door by grabbing my wrist. In response, I push his chest back and rip my arm away.

I: Stop! I'm sorry, but you're annoying the sickness of me, so please go and tell my father he can shove some protection up his ass!

Marco is silent as I slam the door in his face and now back in my bedroom to face Simon.

S: That was... brave.

Simon comments quietly, raising his head to look at me, my angry expression softening a little. As I walk towards him, I start to open the bottle and Simon sits up with a grunt.

I: Wait, what are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself.
S: I'm fine.

He assures me before taking a sharp breath and grabbing his side.

S: Fuck!

His frustration is obvious and I can only feel concern. I immediately place the bottle on the nightstand and help him sit against the head of the bed. He frowns at my help and takes the bottle from my hand as I hand it to him.

With a flick of his head, he drinks the entire bottle in less than 5 seconds. I watch as he tosses the bottle onto the side of the bed before leaning his head against the headboard, keeping his gaze on my face.

The towels on his body started to fall so I start to fix them but Simom grabs my hand.

I: Stop, you need to put something cold on the-.
S: It's fine.
I: No, Simon.
S: I said I didn't need to.

He protests, I sigh heavily.

I: Can you just-
S: Do you hate me?

He asks suddenly, the tone of his voice becoming noticeably more serious. My eyes snap to meet his.

I: No. I wouldn't care about you if I did.
S: You should hate me. I messed up.
I: Well, I love you, you bastard.

I admit again, Simon pauses for a moment longer, just taking in my appearance before mumbling back.

S: I love you.

My cheeks blush noticeably and I look down at my hands and bring my bottom lip between my teeth.

I: I don't hate you Simom, I could never hate you..
S: That's not true Isa, you wouldn't feel the same about me if you knew the things I've already done.
I: Well then I think we can agree to disagree.