Stained

Chapter 35

"Not now, I've got someone over," Damien barks. I get a feeling he's not talking to the takeaway. "No, fuck off ."

I wonder who he's talking to? What's it to me? I shouldn't be eavesdropping, it's rude. Yet I can't get myself to move away from the door.

"I don't fucking care." Pause. "Stop fucking pissing me off, or else I'll make you regret the day you made me an enemy." And then silence. Who's he threatening?

After a moment he speaks again. "Yeah, I want chicken wings with salt and pepper chips. And two portions of beef chow mein... Yeah." He's talking to the takeaway now but I know he wasn't before.

I hear footsteps nearing, but too late because the second I step back, ready to bolt back into the bathroom, the bedroom door opens and Damien saunters inside. When he spots me his eyes momentarily grow wide before rage fills them.

"What the fuck are you doing," he rasps.

I jump back scared and the back of my knees collide almost painfully against the end of the bed. Thankfully I don't fall back.

"Answer my question. What are you doing?" He clenches and unclenches his fists at his side as if he's struggling to keep his anger in check.

"Erm..." I stutter. "Er, I..." Get it together Hazel. "I was g...gonna ask you if I c...could have a shower?" I take a step back with each word. All the while, Damien watches me, intently.

"I feel dirty because of...." I struggle to form more words. My heart is hammering in my chest, my head spinning and my entire body is shaking. Hearing him threaten someone then catch me eavesdropping has caused my anxiety to go haywire.

I can't control it. The tiniest things set me off. I've been having therapy for it but nothing seems to work to control or ease it.

Hurt flashes across Damien's handsome features before he masks it and narrows his eyes at me. Is my anxiety causing me to see things too?

"Yeah, you can," he says. 

"Thanks," I give him a small forced smile then turn and step inside the bathroom, locking it behind me.

With shaking hands, I remove my clothes and get into the shower. "Crap!" I whisper shout as the bandaging on my hand gets drenched. Thanks to my anxiety, I completely forgot to get a plastic bag for it!

I suppose there's no going back now so I remove the bandaging. My eyes widen at the purple and blue swollen area.

It's nothing. It's just healing. I don't need to go to the hospital. It's fine. I'm fine.

On the plus side, my injured wrist did one good thing: it distracted my anxiety.

I scrub myself clean using his body wash and shampoo. I spend a long time because I'm using only one hand.

I'm startled by the sudden knock on the door and drop the shower gel with a shriek.

"You okay?" He calls.

"Yeah, the knock just startled me," I shout, my heart beating a mile a minute.

"I got you a towel and comb."

I switch off the shower. "Thanks, you can leave it out there, I'll get it."

"Okay."

I find a wiper in the cupboard under the sink and clean the shower windows with it. I can't just have a shower in his house and not clean the glass. But the main reason I do it is because of my anxiety.

Once I've cleaned the glass, I cautiously open the door to the bedroom and poke my head out, making sure to keep my naked body shielded with the door.

"Damien," I call out, making sure he isn't in the bedroom. When I see no sign of him, I move inside.

I spot the towel and comb on the bed, but what I don't expect to find is a pair of boxers. I grab them and am about to move back into the bathroom when the door creaks open.

Squealing, I grip the towel to my naked front.

Damien walks in and freezes the second he spots me.  His eyes travel the length of me, lingering on my legs.

I squirm under his penetrating, heated gaze. Luckily it causes his green eyes to snap up to mine.

I'm so embarrassed, I don't know what to say. But I bet my scorching red cheeks answer for me.

"You called me?"

My eyes keep darting down, worried something might be peaking out. I'm gripping the towel with my good hand and arm. He raises a pierced brow and I remember he asked a question.

"I... I was checking to see if you were in the room or not so I could get the towel."

He isn't making a move to leave or turn around and it's making me feel extremely self-conscious. Especially with the way those greens are looking over me.

Flashbacks of the bullying I received in high school over my low weight, assault my mind. Does he think my legs are too bony? Are my collar bones protruding too much? Do my arms look like twigs?

"Can you turn around so I can leave for the bathroom? Please," I quickly add, clutching the towel tighter against my chest.

His lips part to say something but is interrupted by the doorbell. Giving me one last once over he leaves the bedroom.

My shoulders droop with relief and I wrap the towel around my body.

I move back into the bathroom and put the boxers on and his hoodie which is the same as the one I was wearing before and reaches mid-thigh. I debate with myself over the bra but end up deciding to go for it.

However, when I put the tracksuit bottoms on I find they're too wide for my slender hips and keep slipping down. I roll the waistband multiple times and when that doesn't work, I try tucking them into the boxers but it continues to slip down my legs.

I let out a frustrated breath. I can't go out bare legged. Unfortunately, I don't have a choice.

Suppressing my anxiety over being so exposed, I brush my long wet hair. Lastly, I place my clothes on the radiator to dry overnight before leaving the bathroom.

After neatly folding his tracksuit bottoms and placing them on his dresser, I begin to make my way to the living area but stop dead in my tracks when a piece of paper falls to the ground. I bend down to retrieve it but nothing prepares me for what's on it.