Untitled Part II
The shower door slid open and a cloud of steam billowed out from inside it as an arm reached around the door for a towel. The cloud slowly disappeared into the fan in the ceiling above as a woman stepped out onto the bathmat on the tiled floor, fastening the towel around her body in a tight knot. She reached for a second towel, unfolding it and roughly rubbing it against her long blonde hair. Her eyes slipped closed as she did so and her lips curled into a contented smile.
She had been sick for days, though it felt like it had been much longer, and while that uncomfortable flutter in her stomach still remained, she finally felt capable of moving more than two steps without wanting to vomit. It was funny in a way, the change in her demeanour seeming sudden, forcing her to contemplate that it was not so much a change in her health as a change in circumstance that had inspired her to climb from her sick bed.
Stepping over to the door she had left open, she glanced out into the bedroom, her eyes finding the figure on the bed. Pale, he still slept, though his brow was creased together with his obvious discomfort. A flush of guilt stained her cheeks. Over the past few days now he had doted on her, though she had insisted he did not, and in subjecting himself to such contact with her, he himself had contracted the stomach virus that had made her so ill.
A fresh smile painted her face, the gesture fond as she remembered all too well being here in this very bathroom, curled up on the floor by the toilet as she vomited over and over again, pale with tears streaming down her face. And beside her...
There he had knelt, holding back her hair, rubbing her back, whispering soothingly to her, and though she insisted time and time again that he go away, on one occasion straight up screaming at him to leave, he stayed. He would give her that smug smirk, chuckle like the cocky bastard he is and just move a little closer to her.
Stepping back to stand before the mirror, she bent long enough to wrap the towel in her hand around her hair before unwrapping the towel she had around her slender body. She slowly pat herself dry, tossing the towel into the washing basket and turning to grab her clothes when her eyes met her reflection in the mirror. Pausing, she ran a hand down her throat, resting it at the nape of her neck, her gaze curious as it scanned over the fine curves of her nakedness.
How ravaged her body had been this past few months, yet asides from the tiny scar on her breast, and the tiny marks that remained on the knuckle of her right hand, there was so sign of the torment she had been through. The bruises that had once painted her throat, her arms, her thighs, had all since disappeared... Her hair covered whatever scar there might be on the back of her head from the stitches she had needed a good two months ago...
But she still felt the lingering burn of her flesh where rough touches had once been placed. Where nails had torn deeply into her flesh in the throes of a passion she had not returned, and though the bruises were gone, she could still tell you exactly where each painful touch had been placed on her skin. She shivered slightly, closing her eyes.
She felt stronger now than she had in a long time, the fight in her finally beginning to return. The fight in her sparked...
By the sleeping figure in the next room.
A fire burned in that man's soul that radiated a heat that was undeniable. He had been hurt, near broken, but there it was, unwavering, indestructible, no matter how he believed at one time it had almost vanished from his heart. She had been there, seen his pain first hand, just as he had seen hers when he came to her. Two disheartened souls with nothing left to lose. Perhaps she had helped remind him that his fire was still there... She could never really know...
What she did know, however, was that it had been he who had brought her back to life. His fire, his passion burned so brightly it had easily become infectious, and every touch he laid upon her skin revived her just that little bit more until now... Now she burned more brightly than she had ever.
It was he...
The woman turned to one side, arching her back slightly to get a glimpse of the design etched into her skin on her lower back. Pink and purple flowers over a pattern of beautifully sculptured black lines, and beneath it, three letters.
B. J. A.
The man she once believed would be the only person who could ever possibly save her from the heartache she had endured. A man with a good heart, a beautiful soul...
Who had all but disappeared off the face of the planet.
How intensely she loved him. For months now, a single word from him had been able to bring her more joy than anything else could ever. His smile, his touch, were a symbol of untold purity, and despite the kind of life he had led for so long, she knew there would never be anyone more innocent than he. Was that what had drawn her to him? That in essence he seemed to be all the things she once had been, all the things she knew she could never be again?
Regardless...
She had fallen in love with him, deeply, deeply in love. So much so that she had foolishly carved his name into her flesh in the belief that whether they were together or not, she would always love him and him alone. He loved another, and it tormented her beyond words, but every time they were near, every time he spoke to her, he would look at her with complete adoration, his voice layered in the rich tone of love, and his demeanour had given her hope time and time again.
Eventually she had confessed her love for him...
And in return, what was it he had said again?
Lil, my fav'rite newly launched singin' sensation. I got ya shit, I gots ta figure out how the words is gonna be comin' outta my mouth. Shit, I ain't even got a damn clue what ta fuckin' say on it yet. The words, thay ain't formin' right. I'll ring ya bell when I got it mapped.
Yeah, that was it. After reading that same statement over and over a thousand or more times since it had been posted, she had them down pat, eagerly awaiting the bell ringing he had promised.
Yet a month had passed... And he had not spoken to her since.
Running a hand across her lower back, a frown touched her face. A good heart. A beautiful soul.
And when it all came down to it, he too had managed to treat her like crap. The man she so loved, he didn't really exist, did he? She had built him up and built him up, enraptured by the sweet words he lavished upon her...
But all he had ever done was let her down.
Sighing, she reached out and grabbed her underwear, sliding them on before pulling on the white tiny t she was wearing to bed. She reached for her brush as she untangled the second towel from her hair and brought it to her long locks, her mind filtering over a truth she wasn't sure she'd seen before now. He didn't deserve her love, did he? He talked all big and fancy about her, but he'd never come through for her, not a once, and though she didn't blame him, she had come to loathe him for it. She had loved too freely, too openly, and he had eventually treated her with total disregard.
He was only human. And he was in love with another. Why had she ever expected anything more of him than that which she had recieved?
A month ago, she was content to love him regardless, to love him true and completely for the rest of her days. As though she deserved no better than to spend her life in unrequited love.
And now?
The woman smiled, putting the brush back down on the counter, flicking off the bathroom light and stepping out into the bedroom.
Now she felt differently. Differently about so many things in her life, but this above all else.
She moved across the room, sliding into the bed next to him. As she reached up and turned off the bedside lamp, he stirred slightly, murmuring her name, a tired hand reaching across the bed for her. She shuffled forward and into his waiting arms, her head laying against his naked chest. A warmth flooded her soul as he cooed to her softly before he began to drift back off to sleep, her eyes slipping closed as his breathing deepened.
Finally she believed.
Regardless of her past, of all the pain that she had caused with the vile acts she had committed, he believed in her, and he believed she deserved respect and love and he gave her both freely, without the slightest hint of restraint. And if he believed...
She smiled softly, sleep finally creeping in on her, and peace settling in to her wounded heart.
~ The End ~