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Chapter Nine

I woke up to someone physically prying my eyelids open with their fingers. My lashes fluttered as I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fuzzy image in front of me. I could not see clearly, but I knew it was the man.

The splitting headache I had pulsed through my ears. The last thing I could remember was throwing up; the remnants of leftover eggs around my teeth would not let me forget. The most disgusting taste ever sat on my tongue, reminding me of spoiled food.

A clicking noise sounded, the painful tension on the swollen ankle releasing from my foot. I felt like I was floating as my body was lifted in the air. That did not last long, for the hard floor soon met my back. Fingers lightly grazed my thighs as the hems of the polyester gown were tugged down.

"Stop." I groaned, trying to cover my exposed body.

His deep voice mumbled something but it was distorted. I began to feel sick. A hot substance ran up the inside of my throat, spewing all over me and the man. He slid my hair out of my face, groaning in disgust at the bile that covered his fingers. His arms cradled me, carrying me from the bedroom floor to the bathroom.

The cold tile floor in the bathroom sent chills throughout me. The images around me became clear.

"Come on. We have to rinse this off you." The man said gently. He put his hands under my armpits and lifted me to stand.

He sat me down on a tiled seat that was built into the wall of the large shower. I leaned my head into the corner, holding my it and whining. Icy water hit me, completely making my senses come back.

I grunted. "Leave me alone."

The water gradually became warm. A soapy sponge ran along my body, scrubbing at the dried puke mixed with the fresh.

"I want to apologize for not noticing you were sick sooner." He said it oddly with a frown.

The sponge glided across my cheek. A grimace held his features as the remains of eggs peeled off. I winced as he touched the bruises he put on my face. He shampooed my scalp, his fingers working through my tangled hair.

My scalp ached. It was sore. The feeling of it being touched made me want to scream, but I just bit my tongue.

The shower head was lifted from its base, and water flowed down, rinsing the soap from my hair.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. I looked down at the shower floor to see a wad of strands of my hair. My nose scrunched in disgust.

I cannot believe he caused that much to rip from my scalp. Part of me felt like he was not even sorry. He seemed disgusted this whole time, as if I were a house cat that was being washed after running outside and getting dirty.

Conditioner squeezed into the ends of my hair. It smelled of roses. I hate that I like the smell just because he picked it. Roses are the flowers of beauty. They remind me of my mother; it was her favorite plant. She would pull me into her gardens many late evenings, making me play tag with her. After spending so much time around rosebushes, I memorized their smell. At first, I did not think they had a scent. When I noticed they did, I became obsessed. I would beg my mother to buy me rose perfume and lotion.

My posture gave out, and I fell backwards, landing on his shoulder. He caught me and pulled me close to him.

I did not have energy left to fight, so I relaxed as he continued washing my hair, letting me soak his shirt. He rinsed my hair out again and washed my body again. I am sure he did so to not leave out any of the egg pieces that had covered me.

After the final rinse, he pulled me into his lap. Water dripped from my body, soaking his jeans. A thick towel wrapped around my shoulders, another patting my hair. He pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom cabinet and brushed my teeth.