Layla
Bailey pulls me upright. My legs shake as she guides me to a dusty couch and sits me down, her hands on either side of my face. “God, you’re covered in glass–”
“I’m fine,” I choke out, but tears sting my eyes as she lovingly reaches up to pick shards of glass from my hair, collecting them in her open palm.
“What happened?”
“A–a bird–” I swallow the words, my throat burning over each syllable. My throat aches and my skin burns where the doctor licked my neck.
Bile rises in my throat at the memory, heightened by the taste of his blood lingering in my mouth. I press my hands to my lips, gagging. Bailey starts, looking wildly around for something for me to throw up in before gripping me hard and dragging me to the small half-bathroom just off the foyer where I throw up in the toilet.
A few minutes later, I’m sitting at the kitchen table while Bailey industrially picks the remaining glass from my hair and tends to several lacerations to my arms I hadn’t noticed until the throes of nausea cleared, and my wounds began to burn. “I’m okay,” I tell her.
“I’ll have Curtis look for the bird. I didn’t see it in the living room so it must be flying around the house somewhere. He’ll need to replace that window anyway.”
I start to tell her Dalton already took care of the bird, but instead suck in my breath and wince at the burn from the alcohol as she dabs my skin. Her eyes meet mine, a sympathetic smile touching her lips, but then her gaze drops to my neck and flashes with concern. “Layla…”
“It’s nothing. I must have–I must have done it myself.” My words fall flat, but I haven’t processed what happened with the doctor yet. I can’t find the words to tell her what happened to me.
“I’m going to call the doctor back here, he just left so he can’t be far–”
“No!” I grab her hands. “No–I’m fine, really.”
She sucks in a breath and shakes her head. “You don’t look fine.”
“It just scared me, that’s all.” I swallow past the roiling in my chest, finding it hard to catch my breath as the lie falls from my lips. I don’t know why it’s so hard to tell her what happened. Everything just… happened so fast.
“Look, I can stay late tonight if you need the night off–”
“No, Bailey, it’s all right.” I blink away my tears and wipe my face, shivering through the chill that snakes down my spine. “I’m just going to go lie down for a while, at least until the end of your shift.”
“Okay,” she whispers, smiling calmly down at me as she rises and squeezes my shoulder. “I talked to Dr. Ashford about Ms. Penny’s medications, and… I think we should try to connect her with a new doctor after all. I’ll call her lawyer and see if he can help us make the transition. For the meantime, I’m taking her off the amobarbital and her blood pressure meds. When Vera comes in this coming weekend and throws a fit about it, I’ll take the fall.”
“We’ll have a solution figured out by then,” I tell her, smiling. “Thank you for looking out for my aunt like this, Bailey.”
“Go get some rest. I’ll come check in on you in a little while.”
I nod and rise, sniffling a bit as I slowly glide through the house. I head straight to the bathroom in my room where I sink to my ass in the shower and sit in the scalding hot water, letting it spray over me and wash the doctor’s touch from my skin.
When I leave the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I’m not alone.
Dalton sits on the edge of my bed, his hands resting on his knees as he stares absently down at his sneakers. When I close the bathroom door behind me, he looks up then rises. His jade eyes sweep over my face, then my neck, and his concerned expression shifts to something dark and absolutely murderous.
“Dalton–”
“What happened?” he asks, his voice low and vengeful.
My breath catches in my throat as he slowly stalks toward me until he’s at arm’s length. He reaches out, running his thumb over the finger-shaped red bruises on my neck. His upper lip pulls back in a snarl.
“I–I don’t know what happened–”
“The doctor did this,” he says to himself. “He touched you.”
His hand comes around the back of my neck with little force, his thumb resting over my pulse. “Dalton, I’m fine.”
He looks like he wants to break something in half. His eyes leave my neck long enough to scan the scratches on my arms before he meets my eyes. His tongue darts out, gliding along his lower lip. “What did I say?”
“What–what do you mean?”
“What did I say to you last night, Angel?”
No one touches you but me. No one touches you and lives to tell the tale.
“Dalton–”
He lets me go, backing away several steps. “Go to bed,” he commands, his voice hollow and emotionless, then he storms out of my room and slams the door behind him.
“Dalton!” I race after him, clutching the towel to my chest as I rush into the hallway, but he’s gone.
I look around then walk up the stairs to the third floor, hoping he’s just gone to his room. His eyes were so full of rage and hatred. I know Dalton to be steady, not a hot-head, but that look in his eyes makes me wonder if this situation caused him to snap.
I reach his room and raise my fist to knock but then think better of it. The last thing I need right now is a fight. My throat throbs as the bruises set in deep. I’m sure they’ll be a grisly yellow in a matter of hours. I’m thankful Bailey hadn’t said much about it. I’m not sure I could articulate the truth at that moment.
When I return to my room, I lean against the door to close it, sinking down to the floor and letting my legs splay out in front of me.
Sunlight plays over the room, dust hanging in midair.
I don’t rise from the floor for another twenty minutes, and when I do, I simply crawl into bed and bury my face in my pillow where my tears flow freely.
I fall asleep sometime in the earlier afternoon and wake to another gray, stormy sky. No rain yet, but I can smell it in the air as I push the sheets down and sit up, running my hands over my face.
A single rose rests on the edge of the bed, its thorns gleaming in the stormy sunlight. Chills waft over my body as I lean forward to pluck it from its resting place. The thorns are wet, but it’s not… not water.
I drop the rose and look down at my palm, and the smear of blood left behind.