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I’m not a little kid. Not anymore.
I’m not in that courthouse anymore. I haven’t set foot inside there for years.
It’s hot because Martin won’t fix the air conditioner. It broke yesterday. Willow keeps crying and I’m keeping her in just her diapers so she doesn’t overheat. He’s acting like he doesn’t hear our baby girl screaming from the heat.
“It’s too fucking expensive” is his only answer when I ask him about it.
But so are the new shoes he’s wearing around the house. So are the season tickets he bought last week. And his new phone, and his new laptop, and everything else he buys for himself while we fend on scraps.
Thank God Willow is still breastfeeding. I’m not sure how I could afford food for her right now; it’s a miracle he even lets me eat.
“Gotta watch your weight. Shed those baby pounds.” He smacked my ass when he said it, right before he took away my plate of cheap pizza. He didn’t offer me anything else.
It’s so hot in here. Willow keeps crying and it’s too hot to swaddle her. If he won’t fix the air conditioner soon, I might have to go stay at Roxy’s for a while.
I tell him that as I lay Willow down on a blanket where it’s cooler under the ceiling fan. I don’t mean it as a threat, or that I’m leaving him—we just need to keep Willow out of the heat.
But Martin doesn’t like that. He hears me threatening him to leave. He thinks I’m going to abandon him, abandon our baby—and I would never!
But that doesn’t stop him from grabbing my hair. Or from pulling me across the house and into our bedroom by my hair. It hurts so much, I scream and try to kick and pull away.
“Please…please, don’t…” I’m sobbing, begging. I don’t want him to hurt me.
The back of his hand cracks against the side of my face.
“Please! Martin, please!”
“Clara!”
I sob harder. And even though my chest is shaking with my sobs, I’m determined to get my baby and get the hell out of there. So I scramble for anything, the bed, a chair, a table… anything I can grab to pull myself up even as he’s trying to pin me down.
“Clara!”
He grabs me hard by my shoulders. Shakes me. And?—
My eyes fly open.
I don’t recognize him at first. He kinda looks like the nice guy from the box, but… different.
His hands are on my shoulders, but they don’t hurt. He stops shaking me when he sees I’m awake, although I’m not sure if I really am awake. Everything is so blurry, so hard to focus… The room is spinning…
“Fuck.” He whispers it under his breath and holds me close. Did I fall? I think he caught me.
The back of his hand feels so nice. It’s cool and, against my forehead, it feels so soothing. He presses to my brow, my cheek, and my neck. Is he a doctor? If he is, he’s sexy as hell and I am ready for my examination.
“You’re burning up.”
The room spins again, but this time, it’s because he’s lifted me into his arms and is carrying me to… I don’t know where. I never know. He never tells me where we’re going or why; he just scoops me up like ice cream and takes me wherever.
I remember now. I remember his name.
“Demyen…” It comes out way weaker than I intended. Raspy. Good fuck, my tongue isdry.
“Stay with me.” He shifts me in his arms a bit. My head falls against his chest. He’s so warm, but it’s nice. Comforting. He’s not wearing a shirt, so I can smell the sandalwood on his skin.
I moan.
Demyen looks at me with a frown. He seems more worried than angry. “Hang on,” he says, and now, we’re moving faster. It’s dizzying.
