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“Can’t she take care of herself,” I insist, not wanting to end up with this responsibility.
“She’s one!” Rachel fumes.
“Right, okay. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” I hold Rose’s head and keep showering her hair with freezing water.
“She’ll be fine. Keep doing this for another two minutes. Take her clothes off but don’t dry her, just put her to bed. Stay with her, she might vomit more. She’ll be fine in the morning, she already puked most of what she took.”
“How many times has this happened before?” I ask as Rose moans a complaint under my hands. I pull away the jet to listen, but she doesn’t say anything else, so I put it back.
“This is the third time. Jake usually takes care of her. I have no idea where he is. She left the party and came back more upset than I’ve ever seen. She drank, took pills with Ciara, and disappeared. I don’t know what happened after that. She’s going to be fine though. Right, baby?” Rachel coaxes as she leans down to brush Rose’s hair behind her ears. “Promise me you’ll be fine.”
Rose nods but she’s not in control of her movements. The only whispers that come out of her mouth are ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’ on repeat.
Rachel lets her forehead fall on Rose’s. “I love you too,” she whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Jamie,” she admits before leaving. “I owe you one.”
She disappears and I turn back to the mess in my hands. How could tonight get even worse?
When I feel like Rose is slightly coming back, I stop the water.
“Are you alright?” I ask quietly. She doesn’t reply. “Let’s get you out of the bath, you’ll freeze.”
I put both my arms under her armpits and help her up. I pull to get her out but she’s too tall and we both fall to the bathroom floor. My head hits the tiles, and I stay there for a beat before I come back to reality.
“Shit,” Rose mumbles as she rolls to the side.
“You’re heavier than you look,” I rasp as I go back to a standing position to help her up. I help her walk to her room and she falls on her bed.
“You need to get out of these clothes,” I huff as she curls into a ball.
She lets out an annoyed groan and twists and turns until she’s out of her jeans. There’s a tattoo on her left hip that I’d never seen before. A small heart with an even smaller ‘S’ in it. It’s so miniature, I have to look at it twice to discern what it is.
“I can’t get this off,” she blurts as she fights with her wet, tight turtleneck.
I help her out of it not without having to fight her to get it off her head. I take a step back, my breaths short from the exercise, and when my gaze grazes over her body my heart stops.
“Rose,” I squeak in complete disbelief.
Her belly, her torso, her arms, they’re covered in bruises and welts. All the way to her wrists. Her forearm tattoos look strange with the yellow-ish bruises fading on them. I can clearly see they stop above her black, lace shorties and they don’t go under her lace bra. She’s got some other tattoos on her ribs, but they all look distorted with the different colors of her battered skin.
“What happened?” I panic.
She groans a ‘shut up’ and turns to her side, grabbing a pillow to hug it. Her back is just as bad as the front. Some bruises have already faded but some others are still purple.
“Rose,” I shake her shoulder. “Who did this to you? Was it Nathan? Samuel?”
She laughs and lays on her back again.
“What do you know about them, Goody? Except that Nate makes you feel all sorts of things. You don’t know shit.” She huffs and runs a hand on her face. “Ugh, I feel sick as fuck.”
“Do you need to throw up?”
“No,” she growls. “I just want to sleep. No more questions.” Her words are slurred, and I don’t want to push it.
“Rachel said not to leave you alone,” I hesitate, shifting on my feet.
“Then get into bed and let me sleep,” she says tartly.
