David is walking leisurely towards me, still looking only at Michael. When he reaches my side, he very slowly snakes his hand across my lower back, curling his fingers around my waist and pressing me to his side. It is a sign of possession. Michael recognizes it immediately and steps back.
“She asked you to get the fuck out,” David says, almost peacefully. “I think you should listen. And if you have half a brain in your body, you will stay the fuck away from her.”
Michael smirks in acknowledgment of David’s threat and raises his hands in capitulation. He walks to the door, opens it and steps out. He turns to David and says, “Whoever you are, young man, I want you to know that you are getting what you deserve. That girl and her stupid fucking attitude are all yours.” I can hear Michael going down the steps and out the front door.
David releases my hip and strides over to the apartment door to slam it shut. By the time he turns back around, I have dropped to my knees. My mouth is open, and I am staring at him. He is standing above me, his arms sheathed in birds and his chest nothing but bare flesh.
“Turn around,” I whisper, and he does. His entire back is covered with the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. A magnificent phoenix, with gnarled wings and a crooked body, reaches across his shoulder blades and down his sides. Its feathers are saturated with color. Its sinewy tail wraps under David’s arm and curls into the flesh at his side. Brilliant flames emerge from the waistband of his jeans and lick the bird’s talons. I have no words for the creature twisting and writhing across his skin. I stare at it, soaking it in.
David turns around to face me. I am on the floor in front of him, and I want nothing more than to weep. He reaches for my shoulders and helps me up. Once I am standing, he wraps his arms around me, lifts me up, cradling me like a child. I take my eyes off his, and my face sinks into his bare shoulder. He carries me down the hallway and lays me on the bed.
Standing next to the bed, he leans over me, his hands braced on the mattress.
“I will not let him touch you ever again.”
Chapter Six
David takes off his black work boots, and slides into bed next to me. His feet extend beyond mine, but our eyes are even. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, hugging me tight against his bare chest. He doesn’t let me go, but he pushes himself up toward my headboard, so his chin rests on the top of my head. My face sinks into his neck, and I start to cry. Relief swirls through me.
“I know all about assholes like him, Emma,” he murmurs. And I openly sob against his body. I feel sad for David. Sad that he has to know this about me. Sad about what he heard. Sad that he knows how damaged I am. I do not want his pity.
I don’t know how long I cry, but it is a cathartic, religious experience. When I finally stop, he remains frozen. I know he isn’t asleep because I can feel him swallow from time to time. But he is so still, I am afraid to move. I don’t want him to release me because I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know what he will do next. I am just so tired. I close my eyes.
* * *
I wake up to soft light outside my window. How long have I been asleep? Is it morning or evening? I glance at my alarm clock, and it says 7:30 p.m. Fuck. I slept the entire afternoon. Then I remember why I was so tired, and the memory of Michael’s hand on me makes me feel sick inside. David is gone, and I think to myself that he is probably never coming back, that Carl will have to hire someone else to finish my kitchen. I feel beat up.
But I am not sad about Michael anymore. Instead, I am furious that he came here to try to scare me. To do God knows what to me. My hate for that man crawls through me again, burning and scarring. It was splendid, though, to watch David ruffle him. I don’t think I have ever seen anything so satisfying in my life.
As I climb out of bed, I realize that I’m starving. I haven’t had anything to eat since the breakfast bar and sugared coffee this morning. I wonder how I will navigate my kitchen floor if it is still covered in glop.
I stop in the bathroom for a pee. “Oh, man,” I sigh as I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are bloated and raw, and my eyeliner and mascara are smudged across my freckled cheeks. I quickly wash my face and rub some lotion around my eyes. I swipe on some ChapStick because my lips are puffed up like a harlot’s. I look like hell.
When I get to the end of the hallway, I see three massive boxes sitting in my living room. On top of them are two sections of blue countertop. There is also a large toolbox sitting there and a plastic briefcase-like thing with black clasps holding it shut. I forgot about the delivery. Shit, did I actually sleep through all this? If this kind of noise didn’t wake me, then it’s no surprise that I missed David’s knock this morning. Suddenly I regret yelling at him about it.