My stomach roils, threatening to expel the crackers, pills, and water I just consumed. I grit my teeth and nod. “I do want to. Thanks.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
Theo lingers near the bedroom door as I head toward the bathroom, watching me go. I can almost feel the conflict in him, the unwillingness to leave. It seems almost like he’s debating whether to stay and offer to help me, and a part of me wishes he would.
Things between us have always been a little confusing. Something has hovered in the air between us, even as my relationship with Marcus deepened and intensified. The way he looks at me sometimes, that kiss in the alley, the feeling of touching him while Marcus fucked me—it all speaks to something more between us.
And right now, with my world blown to smithereens, little pieces of it floating through the air like dust, Theo and Ryland feel like the only two people in the world I can trust.
The only real things that exist in a world that barely makes sense anymore.
I need them, in a way that scares me a little to think about.
My steps slow a little as I reach the bathroom door, giving Theo a chance to speak up if he wants. But when he doesn’t say anything, I slip into the bathroom and close the door softly behind me.
Maybe it’s for the best. I’m fucked up in the head right now anyway. Maybe I just need to be alone.
As I step toward the shower, my gaze snags on the mirror over the sink. I blink, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.
Jesus.
How did the men look at me without grimacing? How did Doctor Adelman do his exam without running screaming from the room?
I look like an extra in a horror movie—one who dies in the first fucking scene. Blood mats my dark hair, giving the dark locks an odd auburn sheen. My hair is a tangled mess, and I’ve got a few scratches and bruises on my face. My skin and clothes are caked with blood, and now that it’s drying, it’s starting to flake off in little red particles.
The red flowers of my tattoo blend in with the blood on my arm, and a shiver runs down my spine as I stare at the ink. I remember thinking once how much the roses looked like pools of blood, and now it’s impossible to get that thought out of my head.
With a sudden vicious movement, I yank my crusted shirt over my head and throw it into a corner of the bathroom. I unhook my bra and hurl it after my top, then shove my pants down as I kick off my shoes. I’m usually pretty good at doing shit like this one-handed, but my muscles feel sluggish and uncoordinated, and I have to grab the sink counter to steady myself when I overbalance and almost fall over.
When my clothes are finally all in a pile in the corner, I turn on the water and step under the spray. It’s cold at first, and I hiss out a breath as the cool droplets cascade over my skin. The painkiller is starting to kick in, but I’m careful to avoid the large knot on the side of my head as I run my hand slowly through my dark hair, letting the gradually warming water break up the clumps of clotted blood.
I don’t look down as I scrub my hair and then my body, not wanting to see the pink-tinged water as it swirls down the drain. The coppery scent gets worse before it gets better, hanging in the steamy air until I massage shampoo into my hair twice.
When I step out of the shower and glance at myself in the steam-fogged mirror again, I look slightly more human—but still half-zombie. My fingertips ghost over the three scars on my chest before moving up to brush across a bruise on my collarbone. Now that all the blood that wasn’t mine is washed off, I can see the bruises and scrapes on my own body better. None of them are bad, nothing that won’t heal, but they dot my skin at regular intervals, each one a reminder of everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.
“Hey, Rose? You decent?” Theo’s muffled voice comes through the door, and I wonder if he’s been waiting to hear the shower turn off. “I’ve got some clothes for you.”
“Thanks.”
Tearing my gaze away from the mirror and the girl with pale skin, dark hair, and haunted blue eyes, I grab a towel from the rack and wrap it around myself.
Steam billows out of the bathroom when I open the door, making me wonder for a second how long I was in the shower. Time doesn’t seem to mean much right now; it could’ve been hours or minutes, and I wouldn’t know the difference.
Theo’s gaze travels down my body quickly as if he’s assessing me for damage. It looks like he’s showered too, changing out of his blood-stained clothes into fresh ones. Concern shines in his blue-green eyes, but when he meets my gaze, he offers a small smile and hands over some pajamas I recognize as ones I left at Marcus’s place.
I take them, my heart skipping unevenly in my chest. “Ryland’s back? Did he find—”
“No.” Theo’s smile slips. “The place was empty. No sign that Marcus has been there.”
Goddammit.
I expected that answer, but it breaks my heart anyway.
“Fuck.” My fingers tighten around the clothes, twisting and bunching the fabric. “What else can we do then? Can we—”
“You can sleep,” Theo interrupts gently. “Doctor Adelman said you need to take it easy, and Marcus will kill us if we let you push yourself too hard and end up making things worse. Ry and I talked after he got back. We’re expanding our search for security footage to a wider perimeter to see if we can pick anything up. A car. A license plate. A face. Anything.”
It
