Dollface

Part 55

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The house seems lonely, uncharacteristically quiet, despite the many men guarding the house, I have spent most hours of a day in my room with Simon and his stubbornness to be cared for.

As I swing the door open, I peer up to see him standing with obvious struggle, the clench of his jaw and hard-pressed lips making it clear. I sigh heavily and let my shoulders sag lazily.

I: Simon, I told you to stop getting up.

He groans at my assertiveness and finally stands up straight, sucking a hiss through his teeth.

S: I'm fine.

I scurry over to him, my hands reaching out to help him, but he shakes his head in response.

S: Isabell.

He looks at me warningly.

I: You're going to hurt yourself, you need to rest.

Simon's eyebrows furrow as he stubbornly ignores my advice and continues into the bathroom. I can never bring myself to understand this man; he's always been complicated. He could be missing an entire leg and would refuse to believe that anything was wrong.

In the bathroom, after following him, he unzips his belt and zips his jeans.

S: Do you want to watch me pee?

Simon spits and looks at me with a raised eyebrow. It doesn't bother me like it used to, so I just roll my eyes and stand by the sink to at least wash my exhausted face.

I: You don't have to be damn rude.
S: I was just kidding.

I take a quick look at myself in the mirror and notice the redness of my puffy eyes from excessive crying, the dark bags underneath making my lack of sleep apparent, not to mention the rat's nest of a mess my hair was in, I look like crap to say the least.

I bend down, splash the fresh water over my face and proceed to wash it, but as I dry my face with a towel, it is taken from my hands and thrown to the floor, a pair of large hands spin me around by my hips and push me against the counter.

Simon runs the knuckle of his index finger slowly along my cheek and I stare at him with a frown.

I: You should sleep.

I say quietly, my eyes falling to the cobra on his neck.

S: I've slept enough, you haven't.
I: You shouldn't care if I've slept enough or not, you should be more concerned about yourself, I'm not the one who got my ass beat.

Simon's brows rise in surprise at my comment, lips parting before curving into a grin.

S: Well, if you insist, then you'll have to join me.
I: I can't sleep.

I sigh as Simon lowers his head to look into my exhausted eyes. His hand slips into mine, his thumb gently rubbing my knuckles.

S: Why?
I: My father might be calling me down or something.
S: If he calls you, I'm sure we'll hear someone calling.
I: Simon-
S: Stop. He's only making you watch over me so he can use me later. He won't call you until I'm healed.

His dark brown eyes force mine to meet his, giving me a reassuring look.

S: Don't feel repulsed by your father, he may seem heartless but he's never cared for anyone as much as he cared for you. He had every right to hit me.

I'm too weary and tired to say much or even process it, but I understand what he means.

When I don't answer, Simom pulls me out of the bathroom. I help him lay down on the mattress and with a slight struggle we make it.