Forgetting Love

23

I examine my shoulder in the mirror. I have the collar of my shirt pulled down my shoulder to reveal the swollen scabs caused by Chris. The skin is a bright pink around the four curved gashes from his nails digging into my skin. "Ouch," I mumble as I lightly touch it. I should probably clean it. Because of the position of the injury, I need to take my shirt off so I can clean it properly. To my disdain, the only thing different about the bathroom from the old house is the lockless door. Anyone could walk in on me at anytime.

For a few minutes, I just stare at my reflection really dreading this. First off, it's going to hurt. Secondly, I want my privacy. It frustrates me that he takes all my freedom away. Once again I feel like a prisoner.

Finally I realize that I might as well get this over with. The longer I wait, the better the chance that Chris will come looking for me. I turn the water on in the sink and carefully slide my shirt off. I do my best to keep the fabric off my sensitive skin. I'm left feeling exposed even though I'm not. It's like wearing a bikini, but it still doesn't feel safe.

Grabbing a wash cloth, I wet it down using water while searching for some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. Once I find them in the cupboard beneath the sink, I grab the wet wash cloth and wring it out. I'm trying to do this as fast as I possibly can. I grit my teeth and use it to clean all the dried blood off. This also pulls up the scabs so they start to bleed again. Great, just another thing to deal with. It stings bad, but I know it's only going to get worse.

It still needs to be cleaned out to stop infection. I take a cotton ball and pour some alcohol on it. This is going to hurt so bad. Before I have time to coward out, I dab over the cuts with it. I grit my teeth against the pain but end up gasping anyways. The stinging doesn't last long though. I let the cotton ball drop to the sink once I'm finished with it. At least it's over with. I guess it wasn't too bad. I thought I'd be screaming curses at whoever thought alcohol was a good thing to use to clean wounds. Especially since it hurts as much as it does.

I put a big bandage over it just so it can scab over again. Then I pull my shirt over my head, not a moment too soon. There's a knock on the door and Chris opens it a couple seconds later. I still have most of my mess on the counter. I hope he doesn't ask about it. I don't want him to know that he hurt me. It would make him mad or upset him. Either way I wish to avoid that.

"Hey," he says, sounding not very happy. I don't even acknowledge him. I'm still too terrified from Jonathan to speak in complete sentences. My voice feels paralyzed and caught in my throat. I act like Chris isn't there. Besides, he didn't ask if he could come in. Knocking was pointless if he was going to barge in here anyways. Talk about rude.

I bend down to put the alcohol and cotton balls back in the cupboard. When I stand back up, Chris is only inches behind me. I stiffen, there's no way he won't see the bloodied wash cloth. He takes a sharp in take of breath and I know I'm right. Instead of saying anything, he reaches around me and grabs the bloodied cloth. He stares at it for a few moments. "What is this?" He asks slowly, his voice taking a darker tone. I look down. "Morgan," he says more forcefully. If I don't answer now, I'll definitely be in some trouble.

"I don't know," I croak. I somehow managed to find my voice, but not by much. Not enough for him.

He grabs me by my injured shoulder and forces me to turn around. I hold back a cry of pain. Staring at his chest, I refuse to look at his face. I'd rather not see the fury in his eyes. "Look at me," his voice is stern. He's scaring me. Slowly, I look up. I try not to look directly in his eyes. "What were you doing?" Once again I find myself at lose of words. "Come on Morgan, don't make me hurt you," he says almost desperately.

"I was just cleaning," I mumble meekly. I try to look innocent but he doesn't buy it. I probably couldn't look any guiltier.

"Cleaning what?" He is losing his patience quickly.