Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Mom closed her eyes briefly then turned to me with a pretend smile.
She didn’t try to speak to me as she helped me undress. If she was bothered by all the blood on my clothes and skin, she didn’t show it. I supposed being married to Dad, she’d seen worse over the years. When we pulled down my tights, I winced at a sharp pain in my sole.
I had a cut under my foot that looked as if it was inflamed. “Nino will have to take a look at this,” she said neutrally. “Or would you prefer if I called a doctor?”
I immediately shook my head. Nino had always treated me when I was sick. I didn’t want someone I didn’t know taking care of me.
“Okay. That’s what I thought. I just thought I should ask considering everything that’s happened.”
I could tell that Mom was angry.
“Are you mad at me?”
She let out a sharp laugh and shook her head, her palm sliding over my hair as she began to rinse it with water. “No, why would I be?”
“But you’re mad.”
“I am.”
“At Dad.”
She held the shower head out to me and I took it and washed away the dirt and blood while Mom gathered a fluffy bathrobe.
“Why are they the way they are?”
“I don’t know.” Mom held the robe out to me. I wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. Her blue eyes were soft as they settled on mine, but her mouth was set tight with worry. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her blond hair was a mess. “I wish you hadn’t seen what you did. I wish I could take this burden from you.”
“Why would you think you can carry it better than I do?” I asked, honestly curious.
Mom smiled. “I don’t think I do, but I think I should. I’m your Mom. I want to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection from Nevio, Dad and Nino.”
Mom touched my cheek. “No, you don’t. I’m glad you realize that. And that’s not what I meant.”
I nodded because I understood what she meant. “I would have found out eventually.”
“Maybe. But this was a very brutal way to find out. It’s a lot to take in.”
I didn’t deny it. I hadn’t dared to fall asleep after all. When I was dried off, I put on my fluffy bunny pajamas, seeking their familiar comfort. Mom grabbed something from the shelf and held out my stuffed rabbit. I’d had it all my life but recently I hadn’t cuddled with it anymore. I took it from her.
“What can I do?” I whispered, clutching my stuffed rabbit to my chest. It was soft and white.
Mom sighed, looking exhausted. She probably hadn’t slept these last two days either. “Love them.”
When Mom and I emerged from the bathroom, Dad and Nino were waiting for us in my bedroom. Dad scanned my face with furrowed brows, his dark eyes cautious, as if he worried I’d bolt again.
Mom ignored both of them and helped me get into bed. She pressed a kiss to my forehead then she straightened.
“Go to bed and get some rest. I’ll join you when I’ve talked to Greta,” Dad said to Mom. She didn’t look at him, only at me. “Do you want me to stay?”
Anger filled Dad’s eyes.
“No, go sleep.”
Mom hesitated but then she nodded and turned around. Dad held her by the wrist when she tried to pass him. Mom sent him a scathing look. He released her and she slipped out but left the door ajar.
Nino gave Dad a look I didn’t understand. They often shared these moments. Dad approached me and sank down on the bed, then he motioned at the glass of water and plate with scrambled tofu and toast on the nightstand. I emptied half of the glass and nibbled at the toast. “Nino is going to check you now.”
I nodded, because I knew Dad wouldn’t accept a no in this case and it was the reasonable thing to do anyway. I didn’t want my wounds to get infected. If my foot stopped me from dancing that would be unfathomable. I knew I’d have to spend many nights alone in my ballet studio to get over this.
Nino sank down on the other side of the bed. “I’m going to start with the cut under your ribs.”
I lifted my pajama top enough for him to see the small slash I’d inflicted on myself. Nino was careful as he cleaned and taped it. “We had the man tested for possible diseases since the knife you used was contaminated with his blood but he was clean.”
His voice was matter-of-fact, professional, something I usually appreciated. Whenever I needed a neutral opinion or wanted to truly understand something I asked Nino, but today I couldn’t bear his emotionless tone. He moved on to the cut in my foot without missing a beat.