Chapter-61

~MARLOWE~

I stared at my reflection, my features distorted within the fissures stretching the length of the bathroom mirror. My hands shook as I gripped the sink. Tiny droplets of red dripped from my hand, staining the porcelain red with my blood. Dropping my eyes, I stared at  the cuts and gashes, my thoughts racing.

Whispers of confusion filled my mind—Torin was alive. I’d suffered through a year of pain. Of grieving. Of walking a road of death that hadn’t been mine. How could he? How could he have done this? I had grieved over his casket, died with each toss of dirt placed upon it. Anger was a light emotion to the wail of fury that had arisen within me as I’d gazed at the features of the man who had taken my heart six-feet under with him.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Tannin stepped in, her eyes widening at seeing the blood on the sink. "What the fuck Marlowe? Are you okay," she hissed, coming over to stand beside me as taking my hand in hers, she gazed at the mess I’d made of my knuckles.

I turned to face her, my eyes red and swollen from crying. "No, I'm not." I told her, taking a shaky breath.

Tannin's gaze searched mine, a mix of concern and confusion. She knew about Torin, knew the depth of the loss I had felt.

"What the hell do you mean he's alive?" she whispered, her grip tightening on my hand.

The words barely left my mouth before a sob choked me, and I leaned into her, letting her hold me as I crumbled. "I don't know, Tan. I don't know why he'd do this, but he's alive."

Her arms wrapped around me in a fierce embrace.

"We'll talk, but first, let's get you cleaned up." Tannin's voice was gentle, but firm. She turned on the faucet, running lukewarm water and grabbing a first-aid kit from beneath the sink.

She was methodical, her movements efficient as she cleaned my wounds and applied bandages, all while keeping a steady stream of comforting words flowing. Her touch was soothing in contrast to the turmoil raging within me.

"I don't know what to do with this," I whispered. "How to handle it. I mean, I'm glad he's alive, of course, but goddammit, Tan....

Tannin nodded, her eyes never leaving mine in the mirror as she worked. "I know," she said, her voice thick with sympathy. "But we'll figure it out."

Once my hand was wrapped and the blood washed away, she pulled back and took my shoulders, making me look at her. "Come on, let's get you back in bed before you bust that gunshot open."

We walked down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath us. The house was eerily quiet, as if holding its breath, aware of the storm that had just passed through it. I felt numb, a shell of the person I'd been mere hours ago. The bed looked inviting, a sanctuary from the chaos in my head, but I knew sleep would be elusive.

Tannin helped me sit down and handed me a glass of water, her eyes never leaving mine. "Do you need anything for the pain?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress.

I shook my head, taking a sip of water to moisten my dry throat. "No, I'm okay. I just can't believe it," I murmured, setting the glass down on the bedside table with a tremble.

Taking a breath and obviously hesitant to say it, she questioned, "Are you sure you weren't just dreaming."

I shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. Maybe? He was here and gone so fast, I'm not certain of anything!"

Tannin sat down next to me, her hand finding mine again.

"It's okay to be unsure," she said softly. "We'll figure it out, okay?"

Her words didn't offer much comfort, but the sincerity in her eyes did. I nodded, willing myself to believe that we could navigate this new reality. But the doubt lingered, a thick fog clouding my thoughts.

"I'll stay with you, okay?" Tannin offered, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hand remained in mine, a lifeline to the world outside my tumultuous thoughts.

"Thanks, Tan," I managed to murmur, my voice weak and brittle. The reality of the situation felt surreal, as if I were trapped in a nightmare that refused to end.