~CHAPTER 14~
"Ohh Lord, what have you done" unfocused my eyes snapped to see a face hovering above.
"Lord, too much blood" Slowly adjusting to see Miss Stella holding my arm, trying to pick me up from the ground.
Oh no, no, no, I glanced down to my right wrist already knowing what had happened. Not again, please, Blood was gushing out, soaking my sleeves and dripping onto the floor.
Every freaking time, every damned time those voices showed up, I lose it, not knowing what happens next.
My mind just stops, darkness and all I can think of is the release, the pain.
The memories of my last wrist-cutting session flooded back with how it all started, making me want to recut the already healed wrist again.
Remembering the feeling of the blade slicing through my skin. A hand was wrapping something against my wound, but I didn't care; I just wanted the voices to go away, leave me alone; I'm not weak, I told myself, but the words were hollow.
"I'm not weak, I'm not weak" whispering the words out loud, over and over, useless, stop.
The voices were still there, echoing in my mind.
"Katya, dear, it's alright. You aren't weak, you are strong. Come back, look at me," No, no. Everything was a lie. Go away, go away. She's a liar, everyone's lying, my hand was moving, trying to push her away.
"Katya!!" smack, Miss Stella screamed, with a slap. A sharp, stinging slap that made my eyes water.
My blurred eyes began to clear to see Miss Stella's concerned face inches from mine.
"You aren't weak!" she shouted, making the words ring in my ears.
I stared at her wide eyes before fresh tears poured down, "I'm not weak," shaking my head with a small voice. Miss Stella nodded quickly. "You're not; you are strong, stronger than anyone I've ever met."
The tears were like a river, falling in full force; her words, even though I didn't want to believe them, smoothed my bettered heart a little; she quickly wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a long overdue hug, one that I desperately needed.
I can't remember the last time someone had held me like that, with this kindness. I leaned into the embrace, feeling secure, a feeling that I hadn't experienced in a long time.
It was refreshing, like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer, making me forget about the voices, the pain, and the fear.
We stood there for what felt like an eternity, with me crying my eyes out, like a fool. What the hell was I doing, crying in someone's presence, but Miss Stella's arms were a haven. Snap out, she would turn on you, I pulled back, my face flushed and puffy from crying.
"Sorry," Sniffled, feeling embarrassed about getting her shoulder wet with my tears; her hands gently moved to my face, soothing.
"It's alright, dear." Her eyes filled with compassion as she calmly used her thumb to wipe some tears off my wet cheeks. "You don't have to apologize for feeling overwhelmed. It was my fault." Yes, it was" for leaving you to do this work alone." I didn't want to voice what was on my mind with the way her eyes were filled with regrets.
But yeah, it definitely was her fault. Leaving me here to do all this bloody cleaning, surrounded by the eerie silence and the stench of blood, making It a recipe for disaster.
Slowly, I stepped away from her, taking in the surroundings. We were in the elevator. How? We were supposed to be in that blood-covered hallway. It doesn't make sense; how did we end up here? Racked my brain, trying to remember how we got here.
Miss Stella must have dragged me out of the hallway and into the elevator when I was having that episode.
The elevator doors slid shut, and Miss Stella pressed a button, selecting our destination. It was moving upwards.
Ding! The elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway. The same hallway with two elevators, which still looks absurd to me.
Cause, What kind of house had not one, but two elevators? Or, for that matter, an elevator at all? Unless... unless this wasn't a house at all, but a freaking huge building.
Miss Stella walked out, stepping into the hallway and moving towards the stairs, which still surprised me with their presence. Who builds stairs alongside elevators? Miss Stella's hands were reassuring as she gently held my arm.
The new hallway lights flickered to life as we reached the top floor. Miss Stella guided me to the room assigned to me, her hand still holding my arm.
Gently pushing open the door and stepping inside. I was acutely aware of the blood on my maid dress, which had dripped onto every surface I passed but I didn't want to look down.
The elevator floor, the stairs, the hallway... all bore the evidence of my breakdown. Miss Stella released my arm, leaving me standing at the front of the room.
I hesitated, unwilling to follow her while she moved to a dresser located at the side of the room.
Looking at this room's white interior made me anxious, I didn't want to stain it with the blood still dripping from my maid dress.
Miss Stella looked over at me, a frown creasing her forehead, walking towards me, her expression stern. "Why are you still here? Go take a bath, and I'll find you some new clothes." gently pushed me towards the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
Alone in the bathroom, I quickly stripped down, alongside the fabric that was covering my wrist wound, discarding it without a second thought.
Making sure the shower was warm, I stepped into it and scrubbed my skin vigorously, as if trying to rid myself of a poisonous stain.
The Voices... it was overwhelming, I closed my eyes, letting the water wash away my tears and the blood.
Why, I couldn't help but ask myself.
Why did this keep happening to me? Why couldn't I control these episodes?
My mind wandered back to the first time it had happened. I was 15, five years back and it was like a switch had been flipped.
One moment I was fine, well not that fine with my abusive father, but I was surviving; the next, I was on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass in my father's room and blood.
From what I could remember, My father had tried to come onto me, but before he could, I had used his glass of whiskey he had been drinking to smash against his head leaving him unconscious.
But then, that was when the voices started, just soon after. Whispering, taunting, telling me I was worthless, that I deserved to be hurt. I had learned to live with them, to tune them out, but sometimes... sometimes they were too loud to ignore.
I snapped my eyes open, gazing blankly at the shower wall as the water continued to pour down. "You're not weak, Katya. You're strong." Miss Stella's words echoed in my mind
But was I? Really? Or was I just pretending to be?
The shower grew colder, making the water less comforting and I turned off the faucet and stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel.
Walking out into the bedroom to see Miss Stella neatly arranging some clothes on the bed, I looked over to the floor, but there weren't any blood stains; she must have cleaned them cause I'm damn sure some blood had dropped down my dress.
She turned over to me, her eyes moving to my wrist which I had removed the fabric, she sighed and walked over" You shouldn't have removed the fabric now, come let's use a bandage" She dragged me to the bed, before turning to the bathroom, disappeared and reappeared again with a box.
Dropping the box onto the bed, she sat next to me, opening her palm for me to drop my injured wrist on it. "You wanna talk about it?" she began cleaning the wound, which stung like crazy, but I gritted my teeth together; I was not ready to say a word about what had happened.
Miss Stella must have noticed; I wasn't going to say anything as she finished bandaging the wound and standing up, "These are your clothes; I'll leave you to change; I'll be back soon," She didn't wait for my reply, turning and walking out the front door.
The clothes in question were a pair of jeans which I hadn't worn for like a decade and a white tee shirt, it would be a struggle to get these jeans on with my wound, but I wore them carefully.
The door to the room swings open, expecting to see Miss Stella, but no....the universe sent the devil.....The don.
"I heard you're sick," He said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him....not again.
I wasn't sick, and what was his business if I was? After all, I was his slave.
"I brought you a gift...." A gift!???....why would he bring a gift for me if I was his slave? He was holding onto a huge box with a grin plastered onto his handsome face, making me scared shirtless.