"I- uh, I need to bathe." I said sheepishly.
"Oh, right. It's been awhile." Justin nodded once, placing my plate of food on the bedside table gently.
He grabbed my hand as though it was the most fragile thing on Earth. I stared at my hand in his. It was so small, dainty. He led me through the endless, dark hall to the very last room on the right. It was near the front door. I almost didn't even want to run again.
He started the bath water, "Hot? Cold?" He asked, holding his hand under the stream of water.
"Uh, hot." I stammered.
He sat with me in silence for the few minutes it took for the bath to fill with water. He let it run until it was nearly spilling over and the bath drain was struggling to even it out. He was saving time with me.
He patted my back, closing the bathroom door behind him. "Twenty minutes." He said sternly from outside the door.
The second I heard the door click, I rushed to strip myself of my clothing. I was wearing his T shirt, with the CMS logo scrawled across the front. It hung down to my mid thigh. In a matter of mere seconds I was in the bath.
The water was so hot my skin began to turn red wherever it touched. I submerged myself in the piping hot water until my knees and my face were the only parts of my body that weren't in the water.
I took a long, deep breath. The swelling of my throat and the heaviness of my chest made me even more anxious. In the middle of my breath, I sunk my face into the water. There was nothing running through my mind. I had been laying in the water for at least fifteen minutes by this point.
My nostrils burned under the water, but I continued to attempt at breathing nonetheless. My lungs felt like they could spontaneously combust, like they were too big for my body. I couldn't process anything anymore. I couldn't think. And I fell into unconsciousness.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. Please?" Frantic sobbing was the first thing I could hear. My saliva tasted like iron.
I felt his hand on the back of my neck, holding me. He wiped my face with his thumb. I opened my eyes, but the light was too much for me. I closed them quickly.
"Why would you do that to me?" He whispered, he looked ashamed.
"I- I didn't do anything." I said through my scratchy throat.
"Why would you try that?" He was getting angry.
"I didn't try anything." I opened my eyes again.
"Yes you did," he said, accusingly as he raised his voice.
He dropped my head from his hands and moved himself away from me. I held my place on the ground of my room beside my bed. I curled in a ball, I was wearing his T shirt again. That's creepy.
I looked up at him from my position on the floor. He firmly grabbed his hair between his fingers. I could see every stressed vein in his hands.
I didn't take my eyes off him as I got on my knees and then stood slowly. I pulled his hands from his head and held them in mine. My wet hair dripped on his skin. He didn't look at me. I don't think he could.
"Justin," I said, lowering my head so I could look him in the eyes that his eyelashes covered as he looked at the ground. "Please." I said.
He gulped once and looked down at me. His stature only a few inches taller than my own, felt like a huge difference right now. In this moment, I felt small and weak.
I couldn't say anything. His hands felt warmer than ever in mine. He was clearly frustrated. I pulled my arms behind my back until his were around me. And I hugged him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tip toes. I didn't want to let go.
I felt sorry. I don't know why I did that. Or where I got the courage to do that. A few minutes ago I could care less about myself, I could've been dead and I wouldn't have cared. But now, being sweetly in his arms, I could think to want to try again.
He pulled away from me. I grabbed his shoulders and stared at him. "I'm sorry." I said sincerely. A small tear threatened to fall from his eye, but I wiped it away before it could.
Justin didn't respond in the slightest. His body was stiff, and he walked away with no emotion. I watched as he aggressively slammed the door shut. Mood swings much?
There's recently been a few additions to my bedroom, he upgraded my bed to a full size, for all the sleepless nights of us playing Mario Cart. In the corner just under my tiny window, a desk with a TV, a GameCube and countless sketchbooks. It was quite convenient. The room was still spacious, he promised me a dresser soon, one which will sit right next to my bookshelf. As much as I hate to say it, this room felt more like home than I can remember my house ever being.
He doesn't have wifi here, for obvious reasons. But he goes to the library often to print off wattpad books for me. He buys me a lot of manga. It was weird, to feel like he wanted me here.
In the moments when he kidnapped me, threw me into this room like a dog, I felt worthless. But, here we are now. Weeks later, and he's treating me like I mean everything to him. Statistically, I should've been murdered in the first twenty four hours. It feels odd to say I feel comfortable with him now. I trust him.
Its been hours since he stormed out of my room. I've read at least three mangas and I was beginning to grow lonely. I opened my door, something I promised him I'd never do since he took my lock off. Baby steps.
The entire house was nearly pitch black, something that isn't usual. Only the bathroom light was on.
He didn't.
I opened the door quickly, the knob of the door squeaked. I stared at him, in the bathtub, fully clothed.
I pulled his heavy body from the water. What a way to get revenge. I put my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was slow. And only getting slower. I listened for a few minutes, and it was nearly completely gone.
"No no no," I repeated myself countless times. "What the hell were you thinking?" I tried my best to perform CPR, just how we learned at school. The minutes that I tried, I became more and more tired. But he coughed. He coughed.
It hurt to know he only did this to get back at me. That's twisted fucking logic. I listened to his heart beat again. Until it evened out. He didn't open his eyes, but I knew he was okay.
I cried silently, I didn't care to stay there with him. I let his body lay on the tiled floor of the bathroom. I walked back to my room, I couldn't feel my legs. I felt really numb and weightless.
I threw myself into my bed and buried my face into the pillow. I cried. I cried for hours and hours after that.
It felt awful to know that I did that. And I felt completely and utterly alone. He was going to leave me because he thought I wanted to leave him. I don't want to feel like that ever again. I want him to know that I need him, and that I didn't want to leave him.
I couldn't cry anymore, I was just staring at the bland gray wall of my room, in the very corner of my bed. That's when I heard the door open. I didn't respond, I continued to stare at the wall. In less than twenty four hours our soap opera of a relationship turned into some fucked wattpad story.
