Creed of the Leviathan I

27 | M

Mattia

She put down her cup and sat in the same place that she was sitting in last time. I watched as her trembling hands carefully reached for the washcloth that Tia had put into the bowl of warm water.

Not one word had left her voluptuous lips after the others left. Like a woman on a mission she solely focused all her energy on that damn washcloth, avoiding all eye contact with me. It was as though I was not even there. How I hated the feeling— the feeling of being ignored by her.

"Are you going to use that on me with my clothes still on?" I asked whilst she was wringing the washcloth.

Her lips parted and her eyes wandered to meet mine. "No, I'll—" By taking her lower lip between her teeth she stopped herself from finishing her sentence.

The wrung cloth was once again fully soaked into the water when she turned towards me and immediately reached for the buttons on my shirt to undo them, starting at the one at the very top. With each button she undid her breathing became heavier and more audible.

Her lips parted, but she did not say anything. Nuelle's fingers lightly grazed my torso when she moved the shirt out of the way in the process of wrapping her arms around my back to lift me up in order to remove the shirt. After doing this, she gently lowered me back down.

The shirt was neatly folded and put aside though there was no point in doing this since it needed to be washed but Nuelle being the gentle and caring person that she is, she did it anyway.

My eyes automatically closed when the cloth came in contact with my skin. Gently, she wiped my forehead and then the rest of my face before the soft cloth was dragged down to my neck.

My caregivers could not manage to do this for me for more than twice a day and though I was grateful for Tia's help she was usually in such a rush when doing this since there was so much to do around the house even with Lorna around.

Life became so chaotic that I could not even remember how we got anything done before the three of them came to us. Perhaps, this is because I rarely spent any time at home to notice what Lorna and the others were going through.

I could hear the water dripping from the cloth as she wrung it after wetting it again. The feeling of getting cleaned after several hours of sweating is something I would never again take for granted, that I knew for sure.

"Are you in pain?" She asked when she heard me grunt.

"No, I'm good. My arm—"

"I'm sorry." She apologized before I could explain what was happening.

I could tell that she felt bad for moving up my arm and I could not bear to leave her feeling that way, not when she was doing something that she deserved nothing other than praise for.

"It's okay. I need to move my body more to gain control over it again."

The corners of her mouth curved into a small smile as she continued moving the cloth down my shoulders and torso. Soon enough the scar on my chest caught her attention. I could tell because I could feel her tracing the scar with her finger. Perhaps she thought this would go beyond my notice since I was not looking at her, but it did not.

"It's from the surgery." I explained.

"It's huge." She whispered.

"You feel bad for me."

"We all do."

"Why do you?"

The cloth along with her hand were rested on my scar when she looked up from my chest. For a moment she was quiet. We were both so quiet and remained in our position that it felt like time had stopped.