Meet Amber, a teenage girl struggling with the death of her father, an overstressed mother- and lycanthropy. All she wants is for her life to go back to normal, but a magical corporation has lost a valuable test subject and they believe Amber will b...
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Chapter Thirty Three
"Hold still," I said, dipping the washcloth into the bathwater. Kimberly shut her eyes tight as I reached up and began to dab at her face.
"It hurts a little," she said when I lowered the cloth again, rinsing it off as best I could in the tub. It was already stained black and brown, but towels were yet another thing the Swag Pag neglected to see as worth spending their hard stolen money for.
"I'm sorry," I told her, wiping her cheeks again as gently as I could. "You might be having an allergic reaction to it."
After I'd finally gotten up off the floor in D.K.'s room, I had found Kimberly sitting in the corner of our trashy room, crying. It had taken me over an hour to calm her down, but after that she'd agreed to take a bath surprisingly easily. Of course, I wouldn't let her set foot in the tub until after I'd scoured it clean. It obviously hadn't been used in years...
"Does it hurt?" she asked suddenly, opening her eyes when I took the cloth away from her face.
"I'm sure it does," I answered. "Don't worry, if you get a rash I'll find you something to put on it."
"No," she shook her head, and pointed at my cheek. "That."
I self-consciously put my hand over the bruise to hide it, and looked away. It did hurt. D.K. hit me harder this time than he had before. It hurt to talk, or even open my mouth. Chewing my food was going to be a chore, too. Still, at least it had been me and not Kimberly.
"You shouldn't let him hit you," she said.
I looked up and locked eyes with her. That was probably the nicest thing she'd ever said to me. And yet, I couldn't take her advice.
"I can't stop him," I whispered, hardly able to believe I was having this discussion with a five year old. Wasn't this supposed to be the other way around?
"Why not?" Kimberly asked, her eyes wide with innocence and curiosity.
I knew the answer right away, but the words stuck in my throat. "Because he's stronger than me," I managed to say at last.
To my surprise, Kimberly just shrugged. "You're stronger than me," she said, as if that settled the matter.
I don't know what she meant by that statement, but it struck something in me. I was stronger than her, which meant it was my job to protect her. I'd known this the whole time, but it had never occurred to me until now just what that meant. Being strong didn't just mean taking her punches for her. If D.K. had tried to hit her, I wouldn't have been able to stop him. I paused, my hand in midair, and squeezed the rag so hard that all the water came out. A new, fiery conviction came over me. I would protect Kimberly with my life, and the only way I could do that was to be stronger than the ones who wanted to hurt her.
"What?" she asked, bringing me back to the present. I realized I was still sitting there, the washcloth clenched in my fist, with a scary expression on my face.
