“Do you know what it feels like to press something like this into your skin?” she asks in a monotone voice that gives me chills.
Jesus Christ, I don’t want her thinking about her father right now.
“Phee, you don’t have to tell me, okay? Not right now.”
She either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care, just continues talking in an emotionless voice, the fucking click of the lighter igniting repeatedly making me want to scream.
“Your skin is so tight, you feel so dead inside and you just want to feel alive. You don’t think anything can make your heart start beating again, but then it does. It sinks into your skin like a hot knife going through butter and you can FINALLY get some relief.”
She sighs audibly as she takes another drag and my skin crawls with fear. She quickly exhales and brings the butt of the cigarette close to her face, staring wide-eyed at the orange tip.
“I thought I found something to make it all go away, to make it stop because I thought I finally deserved to feel good instead of miserable,” she whispers.
I slowly reach forward and take the cigarette out of her hand, stabbing it out in the ashtray on her nightstand. She doesn’t even notice what I’ve done, transferring her gaze to the flame of the lighter that she’s holding suspended in front of her face. Wrapping my hand around hers, I ease the lighter out of her hand, as well, and toss it to the side.
“Baby, let’s get you cleaned up and out of these dirty clothes,” I tell her softly.
She blinks a few times and finally looks at me confusedly, almost like she didn’t even realize I was here. Then, she looks down at her hands that are still covered in blood, quickly moving her eyes to the front of her scrub top that is also stained red with quite a lot of what I assume is Finnley’s blood.
She starts panting, whimpering with each exhale of breath as she quickly scrambles up from the floor and starts tearing at her clothes.
“GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF OF ME!” she sobs.
I jump up in front of her as she starts raking her fingernails down her arms to try and remove the blood on her skin, crying and screaming the entire time.
“OH, GOD, IT’S ALL MY FAULT! GET HER FUCKING BLOOD OFF OF ME!”
I wrap my arms around her from behind to try and stop her as she scratches and claws at her face, pulls her hair and tries to physically rip the clothes from her body, but she’s like a wild hellcat. She rips her arms out from under mine and starts punching and kicking as I lift her in the air and move her over to the bed. The tortured screams coming from her make it sound like someone is killing her.
“Phina! Come on, baby, calm down and let me help you,” I shout over her, my heart breaking with each painful cry from her mouth.
I toss her onto the bed and manage to get her onto her back without an elbow to the eye, bringing her arms above her head and securing her wrists in one of my hands as I push my body down on top of hers. The fight leaves her as soon as I get her in this position and she stops struggling. Quiet sobs leave her body and I bring my other hand up, using my thumb to wipe the tears off of her cheek that is still covered in Finnley’s blood.
“I can’t…I can’t…get them off of me,” she whimpers softly this time.
I nod my head even though she’s squeezed her eyes closed and can’t see me.
“Okay, okay. I’m going to let go and I’m going to get you out of these clothes and then we’ll get in the shower,” I reassure her softly, trying not to sob right along with her.
When I let go, she keeps her arms above her head as I ease off of her body and stand next to the bed, leaning over her. She stares up at the ceiling with tears streaming down her cheeks as I grab the hem of her bloody scrub top and slide it up her body. For the time being, I’m glad she’s not looking down because as soon as I get her top off and unhook her bra, I see that her skin is stained with blood from it soaking through her shirt.
I move back and hook my fingers into the waistband of her scrub pants and her hands immediately come down to cover her face. Her shoulders shake as she continues to cry while I ease her pants down her legs and toss them to the side. I do the same with her lace boy shorts, quickly pulling them off and tossing them with the pants. My eyes roam up her legs and her thighs, stopping when I get to her hips. I slowly lean forward, pressing my hands to the bed on either side of her to get a closer look.
I know that when I look back on this night, I’m going to wish I could have stopped the gasp of horror that flew from my mouth. I’m going to wish I did a lot of things differently, but you can’t go back in time to fix your mistakes, no matter how much you want to.