The Protection

Three

I was in a bathtub. Someone gently washed my face and hair, the warm bubbles pooling around my naked body. I tried to move, but she held me still. The woman.

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetie. We're going to wash away what that monster did to you." She whispered, the concern thick in her voice. Her accent was an intriguing mix of a southern drawl and something foreign, something I couldn't quite place. German? Russian?

"Are you almost finished?" asked the gravelly voice, impatiently from beyond the room.

"Yes," she answered simply as she pulled the drain plug. I could feel the warm water being sucked away from me. I shivered, but she quickly wrapped me in a thick towel and my shivers subsided. Why did my eyelids feel so heavy? Why couldn't I open them?

"Thank you," I murmured, and the woman put a cold hand to my forehead, her touch was soothing and didn't burn my skin the way it had before.

"You're welcome. You hit your head pretty hard and have a very bad concussion. I wouldn't even be surprised if you had some minor bleeding on your brain. I'm going to keep you under all day tomorrow to help with the healing." I nodded and my head felt like it was on fire. "Relax," she whispered, and I did. I didn't know why I felt so at ease with total strangers, but this felt like the safest I had ever been in my life. She bent and whispered something into my ear, an incantation of sorts, her lips brushing my hair as she spoke. It was a language I didn't recognize but still somehow understood. She was ordering for me to sleep tomorrow, to heal, and to feel even stronger when I did wake. When she finished, I felt my pink pair of underwear float back up my legs and around my waist, and a t-shirt of the softest material slide over my head, engulfing my upper body.

"You can't give her my shirt," hissed the male voice. "She'll know everything when she sees it."

Softly the woman said, "You know that's not true. They never remember anything."

He sighed. "I really did like that shirt..."