Dont Help Me

Chapter 25

I lay awake on my bed, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom, trying to clear my ever foggy mind. Filled with thoughts of her. My head sinks into the pillow, it clouds around me, providing some kind of comfort, and I listen as the sounds of her voice fill the room. She sings soothingly, her voice muffled by the loud beating of the shower. I listen harder as her voice echoes off the walls, playing out a melody that I'm sure I've heard before.

The shower turns off, and I arrange quickly arrange myself to look like I have been sleeping, not like I have been thinking of her. I hear a crashing on the other side of the door,

"Ah sh!t!" She curses

"You ok in there babe?" So much for making her think I was sleeping. She pops her head round the door, flashing me her biggest smile,

"Ah yeah, just bumped me arm."

I take no notice of it, I try not to think of her bones banging into the frame of the shower, only adding to the bruises and cuts that already adorn her body. I try not to think of the pain that must have been shooting up her side as she tried to shower. I squeeze my eyes tight shut, trying to block out the images that are flooding through my mind.

I think of her cuts healing, her smile, her giggle, the way her nose crinkles up when she laughs. I picture her happy, truly happy, her smile plastered on her face like a permanent screensaver. But it's not permanent. I can't just click a button and make it stay there forever, no matter how much I want to. I remember her face when I answered the door, her face when I let her kiss me, let her touch me, let her hold me. I remember her face when I pulled away, her look of pain, yet understanding. And then I remember her tears, her violent sobs, when I wouldn't answer the door, when he laid hands on her, when he laid hands on me. She cried for me. And then I hear them, her sobs. For a second I think they are in my brain, my subconcious making me hear the pain she's been put through; but they are too vivid, too clear, much too real.

"Chez, you ok in there?"

"... Hmmm? Ah yeah, course."

"Cheryl? You've been in there a while babe."

"I'm fine, I swear." She speaks up, only the slight waver in her voice telling me otherwise. I get off the bed and walk slowly towards the door of the adjoining bathroom, being careful as to not startle her. I knock on the door,

"Cheryl?"

"No please Kimba, don't come in. I'm fine."

"No you're not, Cheryl."

I hear a sigh from the other side of the door, her voice shaky, still clouded by tears.

"It's open." Cheryl chokes out.

I peep around the side of the door, Cheryl is sat down, leant up against the vanity. Her towel only is hanging loosely around her body, doing nothing to cover her dignity. I sigh as I see her phone in her hand, illuminating her tear-soaked face. Again with that bloody phone.

I edge closer to her, my eyes not leaving her beautiful face for a moment,

"Babe, what's wrong?"

She looks up quickly and shrinks further into the corner, but still makes no effort to preserve her dignity. I reach for a towel off the rack, wrapping it around her shoulders when I notice that she is shivering. Shivering from the cold? Or shivering from the cries that rip their way through her tiny body.

"It's him." Him?

"Who's him, Cheryl?"

"... Ashley." I feel a bolt of anger rush through me for a split second, Him. The man who left her bruised, battered, broken.