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Melanie sucked in a breath and squeezed out all the liquid in the pipette until only a few drops remained. Holding it over Ily’s mouth, she murmured, “Open.”
Hesitantly, Ily parted her lips and grimaced as the medicine was administered. Hardly anything at all. A thimble size. Minuet really.
Catching my eyes, the doctor ordered, “If she falls unconscious again, I expect you to monitor her. Roll her onto her side and keep her airway clear. Seeing as Ily has a history of being a lightweight when it comes to substances, it’s your job to keep an eye on her and request us if her care requirements exceed your capabilities.”
“We’ll pop by as soon as we can.” Rose smiled, her eyes far kinder. Either she was far better at hiding her true thoughts or she didn’t hate me as much as Melanie did.
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth. “You have my word. I’ll never take my eyes off her.”
“I can walk, Hen—” Ily cut herself off. “Please, put me down, Master H.”
“No. And don’t ask again.”
Melanie huffed and tucked the vial into her scrub pocket. “Two doors down. Make yourself at home. And Ily…don’t fight the effects, okay? In ten to twenty minutes, you should feel a lot more relaxed and able to ignore the pain.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Ily nodded with a wince.
Spinning on my heel, I strode out of the room before the doctor could say anything else.
* * * * *
Obeying the doctor’s commands, I guided Ily into the spare guest chamber and flicked on the lights. Slightly smaller than our room below, this one glowed in autumn colours. A bed frame made of dull copper, white blankets edged with burnt orange, and curtains a dark shade of bronze. A dresser lined most of the wall with a workstation, minibar, and TV. The view from the small Juliette balcony displayed more of the gardens, allowing us to look down upon the battlements in the distance and the beetle-sized guards patrolling with their spotlights.
The bathroom glittered with modern mosaic tiles, pearlescent white with burnt orange, making everything seem as if we were inside a crystal tangerine.
It felt odd to be in a different room, but Ily didn’t seem to care as she turned on the shower and adjusted it to her preferred temperature of Hades.
I managed to keep my temper the entire time she stripped off her disgusting nude-coloured underwear—now grime-covered and paint-soaked. I chewed on self-hatred as I followed her into the shower and reached for the soap to bathe her.
But then all my fury twisted into despair as she held up her hand and shook her head. “Don’t…please don’t touch me.” She kept her eyes downcast. “The bruises just keep getting worse. The pain is almost too much. I think…I think I’ll pass out again if you touch me.”
I wanted to ask her so many things.
I wanted a comprehensive list of her pain and how to erase it.
I wanted to drop to my knees and press my forehead to her badly bruised belly and just hold her.
But that black abyss smothered me down.
A dam of misery blocked my throat.
I merely nodded.
Leaving her to wash, watching how gently she touched her swollen, black-and-blue skin, I stood under the hot spray and fought the urge to scream.
I’d been too late this time.
I hadn’t stopped him.
That blackness kept billowing, pouring, suffocating…
Rivulets of crimson poured off my skin, but the water didn’t stand a chance at cleansing my insides. My soul was putrid, fetid, corrupted. Red water swirled around our feet, vanishing down the drain. Every drop rivered over my mind, a waterfall pushing me into the deep, dark depths of whatever entity that’d taken hold of me.
My stab wound blazed beneath the hot spray, giving me something to latch onto.
I liked the agony.
I deserved it.
