Dynamite Touch (18+) Book 1

26

A/N: Just... just read, okay? Vote and enjoy, babies. 💋

~*~

Insubstantial.
   Adj.
Lacking strength and solidity.

Day two.

I hear their panicked, nervous whispers. I hear their concerned voices coming in and out of my bedroom door. I hear them place trays of food in my room, only to come back in later and dispose of the uneaten substances.

I hear my sister Scout crying to Skye, asking her unanswerable questions like am I going to be okay? I hear Mia sniffling in the corner, crying to Carter about how she wishes everyone in her life would be okay soon. I hear Danny talking to me, telling me about her and Oliver, how they've been doing with subtle voice cracks. She's trying her best to hold on for me like she's always done.

I hear Ryan sitting in the room with Oliver as they keep me updated on the crime that's been going on in town and in surrounding areas, their voices sad and quiet. They even told me that Dean checked himself into rehab with Skye's persuasion. It's not the same rehabilitation center like the one Andy's going to, fortunately. Elliott is the one who spends every day and night by my side. He leaves to do errands while everyone is rotating watching me, but when everyone leaves he's right by my side. He never talks, he just sits. He knows what I need without me even talking.

Day four.

I drank half of a bottle of water today, peed, then went right back to bed before anyone noticed I left the room. I couldn't sleep so I took my seriously expired sleeping medication, but it worked. I went to sleep and woke up to Elliott asleep, leaning against my dresser with his legs to his chest, arms crossed over his knees, and his face tear-streaked. He's scared for me, he's crying over me. But I can't do anything about it.

 My birthday is tomorrow and no one but Scout, Skye, and Elliott knows. I won't even celebrate it.

  I'm broken, numb to everything. I can't eat, drink, shower, I can't even talk. No one visited me today, per Elliott's request. He wanted me to have a mentally relaxed day. He spent the day in my room, doing his business and work on a laptop on my floor where he could see me clearly.

Little did he know that mentally relaxed is not even in question for me. I had a front seat to the suicide show. To the murder show. I witnessed first-hand my childhood best friend get murdered right in front of me, two minutes later I was almost raped by the former love of my life and tormentor, and then five minutes after that he blew his brains out two feet away from me.

  I'm not okay.

Day six.

Danny cried today. She was telling me about how she visited Dean in rehab and he asked me about me. As she was explaining that she told him what happened to me, she broke down in ugly sobs. Sobs so heartbreaking that if I wasn't so numb I would cry with her in her embrace. But I am- numb.

  Mia came in with Oliver and Ryan today. They each told me they were helping me with my college work. Everyone was taking turns getting me A's as if I was never gone. Carter had a basketball game today so he didn't come, but Ryan said he sends his love. Andy asked about me, apologizing again, Mia told me.

  Skye came in and brushed my hair for me, spraying dry shampoo in it so the grease in my curls wouldn't cake onto my pillow. She kissed my forehead and left. Scout came in shortly after, washing me with a warm rag so I wasn't completely disgusting. She spoon-fed me three spoon fulls of mashed potatoes. I drank a full bottle of water today.

  Elliott told everyone goodnight again, kissed my cheek, and went to sleep in the recliner yet again. He refuses to push me. Even in this state, my feelings deepen for him. I may be falling in love with him but I'm not sure. Am I extremely grateful pr in love? I don't know.

Day eight.

It's been over a week since the incident happened. I'm starting to feel sad, angry, even a little bit of relief. Emotions are slowly thrusting its way through my numbed shell and I'm okay about it. I still haven't eaten, drank, or showered. Everyone who was going to visit me today has already came and gone. Just as I closed my eyes to go to sleep, my bedroom door opened. I heard Elliott's heavy footsteps. He always came in at night and placed his blanket and pillow in the recliner, which is what I expected him to do again.

But I was wrong.

He walked over to me and ripped the covers off of me. My eyes opened out of instinct and I weakly glanced up at him. His face had no emotion, he meant business. He picked me up bridal style and walked me into the bathroom. He sat me down on the floor against the wall where I held myself, confused, as he turned the shower on. Steam instantly started fogging the bathroom, the bathroom mirror completely clouded. I could smell myself, I was disgusting. He picked my body up, and despite having on a loose white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants, he placed me on the floor of the shower.

  I've lost so much weight because of not eating, not even my tight-fitting clothes would fit me anymore. He kicked his shoes off out of the shower and grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste. My knees were to my chest as I hugged my arms around them, the hot water beating down on my clothes and skin. He walked back into the shower, fully clothed and sat in front of me, soaking his clothes as well. He doesn't care about his clothes, he only cares about me.

He put toothpaste on my unused toothbrush and slightly opened my mouth with his thumb. He began brushing my teeth and I was grateful because not only does it make me feel better about myself, but I don't know if I could've physically done it myself. His dark brown hair was soaking around his face, the dark contrasted against his very light green eyes and pink pout; it made him all the more beautiful.

His black t-shirt clung to his skin, all of his muscles immediately became accentuated. Once he finished brushing my teeth, he stripped my clothes off, leaving me in nothing. His eyes never left my face as he did the same to his body. He threw the soaked clothes onto the other side of the shower, letting them sit there. He grabbed my shampoo and began lathering my hair, following quickly with conditioner and then washing and shaving my body as needed. I watched carefully, amazed as he took care of me with such delicacy.

  I opened my mouth to say something for the first time in a long time, but the only thing that came out was a whimper. Hearing my broken voice in such a tiny little cry sent tears to my eyes and he hovered over me, even on his knees. He hugged my naked body to his own, stroking my hair as the hot water paraded over us, "You're okay, mamas..."

I let the waterfall break loose. I cried and cried into his tattooed bicep as one of his hands stroked my hair, the other rubbing my back gently, despite my scars. He doesn't care. After the water ran cold and I started shivering under my cries, he turned the water off and wrapped me into a towel. He dried himself off and then me, picking through my hair with my wide-toothed comb.

He put the necessary things into my hair, he probably learned that from Scout. After combing through my hair one last time, he picked my naked body up bridal style and placed me into warm sheets. Scout or Skye must have changed my bed while I was gone. It smells cleaner, nicer.

He laid down beside me, cuddling me to his naked body in my silky sheets, "I'm here, you're okay."