Lost in the Shadows

24

He sat me on the edge of the toilet to examine my face. He brushed his thumb against my jaw causing me to jump back in pain. He huffed out of anger, yet I could tell he was relieved that half the blood on my face didn't belong to me. Most was splattered blood from when he shot the other man.

"Look, I know this is hard and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I put you through this. But you need to talk to me," he begged as he pressed his forehead into mine, I could tell that he was also fighting back tears, but I couldn't talk. No matter how hard I tried.

"You need to take a shower so that I can make sure you're okay. I can't tell with," he didn't say what he wanted out of fear of how I would react, but I knew he was talking about the abundant about of blood and dirt on my face. "If you want me to, I can help. But if you don't want me to, I get that," he said offering to give me a shower.

I slightly nodded giving him permission to rinse me down. Usually I would object and tell him that I could do it myself, but right now I couldn't do anything. He timidly took off my shoes and then slid my pants down and once those were off he pushed them to the side and knelt in front of me. Even though his face looked at me just inches away from me, I didn't see him.

His fingers gently slid under my sweater and once he pulled it off my head he stared at the purple bruise that had already formed on my torso. His thumb grazed over it as he sighed and continued to repeat apologies.

Once he got me in the shower he softly dragged a rag across my face and by the looks of his I knew there was a bruise on my face. I could feel it too, the throbbing on the side of my jaw and the cuts in my mouth.

He left me in the shower for a couple of seconds before coming back with one of his famous black t-shirts. And when he helped me out of the shower he tugged the shirt over my head along with my undergarments.

"I know you're confused, but when you're ready to talk, I'll answer any questions that you have," he whispered as he sat me on the bed. He talked as though he knew I was on the edge of breaking, and I knew he was terrified of how I would react.

"I need to text Jess," I told him still not looking at him, but instead staring at his curls. And even though I couldn't think straight or move, I knew that I needed to text Jess that I was okay. Even if that was a lie.

"How about I call her," he offered as he grabbed his cellphone and walked out into the hall. Usually the house is loud, especially since the house is filled with boys, but tonight was different. It was silent. I could hear Wes talking to the guys.

"Is she okay," Luke asked as I heard Wes take the last step on the stairs.

"Not right now, but she's strong. She will be," he told them, which felt like a lie. I didn't feel strong at all. I felt weak and defeated.

Wes came back with a glass of water in which he handed me and the first time all night I moved. I grabbed the water and took a sip, but instantly regretted it once I realized my mouth still felt bloody and it stung when the water hit the gashes in my cheeks. "Do you want to rest," he asked taking the water from my hands and setting it on the bedside table.

I shook my head, "what's wrong with me," I asked causing him to jerk as if he wasn't expecting to hear me speak tonight. "I can't feel anything," I told him, which was true. I knew I should be crying, but I couldn't. I knew I should be feeling something, anything at all, but I felt empty.

He slid closer to me and pushed my hair behind my ears, "You're in shock. You don't feel anything right now, but when you do it'll all hit you at once," he admitted. It sounded like the first true thing he's said to me in a while. "How about you get some sleep," he suggested, but I refused.

"I don't want to close my eyes," I told him, because I didn't want to see that mans face. I didn't even have to tell him that part for him to understand what I meant. I wondered if this has ever happened to him. "I want to be alone." He looked hurt and disappointed but he nodded and walked out the room to respect my wishes.

I sat there for hours, in the same spot without any movements. I can't remember if I even blinked or took a breath, but one minute it was 10pm and the next it was 1am. Wes hasn't came back, but I could see his shadows under the door a few times as if he was battling himself to come in or not.

Out of nowhere I started crying, I couldn't stop. It just poured out uncomfortably. I walked into the bathroom to see the damages and started choking on my sobs. My face had turned purple and black on the right side of my face and when I looked at my teeth, blood still remained present. "Danielle," Wes called but I slammed the bathroom door shut before he could walk in. As soon as I lifted up my shirt to see the football sized bruise on my torso, I quickly knelt down to the toilet to throw up.

Every gag was a reminder of the man lying dead in the blood stained snow. I've never felt more sick in my life as I thought about the bullet in his skull and Wes did that. I knew he had to, but he didn't even blink an eye. "Hey, open the door. I can help you," he whispered pressing his hand on the door.

"Go away," I tried to scream, but my sobbing throbbing bloody voice made it sound more like a plea for help. I looked down into the toilet to see blood, which inevitably made me feel more sick.

Wes barged in anyways, "I want to help. Let me help," he begged as he knelt down beside me. I still didn't look at him, I didn't want to. I threw up again recalling the image of Wes pulling the trigger.

"You killed him," I said taking a deep breath and finally finding courage to look at him in the face.

"I know, but if I didn't shoot him he would have shot you," Wes whispered and I knew that was the truth. I knew Wes had to do it, but it all still seemed so surreal. Silence grew into the bathroom just like the rest of the house. I was thankful for the silence, but at the same time it felt as if the silence was mocking me. Everyone was treating me as if I was going to crack or break like an egg, at first it was relaxing and gave me a chance to store my thoughts, but now it haunted me.

"Why did he pick me out of everyone," my questions seemed extremely vague, but Wes understood. He always does.

He flushed the toilet and lifted me up by my hands and lead me into his bedroom again. He let out a deep sigh as he sat next to me on his large bed. "I can tell you everything now, if you want. Or if you want to wait until you're feeling a little more like yourself, I can tell you then. It's up to you," he whispered as he looked at my battle wounds. He looked more defeated than I was, he didn't have any bruises like me, but his dark circles around his sorrowful eyes told me that he didn't like this situation at all. And then I wondered if the silence was mocking him, maybe he feels like he's about to break at any moment too.

"I'll wait," I responded causing him to sigh in relief, he was dreading the moment that he has to tell me, and I wanted to hear everything now, but I wanted to react accordingly. I knew that if he told me all of the dark hidden secrets now, that I wouldn't know how to react. Am I supposed to walk home in the dark after a man tried to kill me? Would I cry? Do I have any more tears left to cry or will I feel more than numb than I already do?

My world felt like it was falling apart around in slow motion and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't catch up, my body couldn't do much of anything. And neither could my mind, I felt paralyzed and trapped inside my own body and mind.