The Inferno's Indulgence

Chapt 42

Celeste

"Baby, it's been three days. You need to shower." His voice is like a faint memory in my head, seeming to come from a very far distance. Nonetheless, I can hear him speaking to me as he has done the past few days, but my body only utters a small will to answer him, in which I don't and opt for staying quiet.

His body dips into the mattress, making the sheets tug over my body for a small second. He slides his hand towards the curve of my body and lets it rest there, sending a warm chill over me entirely.  My mind fogs and convinces me none of this is real despite my all knowing of everything he's done to comfort me in my time of need.

I have tried really hard the past few days, wanting to put a smile onto my face, wanting to laugh, wanting to give him the same look in his eyes he gives me, but the feeling of agony so deep in my heart mocks me and decides my fate for me. The pain I endure now is a pain I wouldn't wish on most people, and is something I would dread going through ever again. My heart clenches at the thought of the doctor's words. It pains me greatly to know my low chance of luck.

I don't want to move, nor do I want to acknowledge any gesture of help. I inhale, and refuse to open my eyes to the dim room. I could hear a bit of shuffling around before he came to me just now, drawers opening and closing. His efforts to get me back on my feet are so appreciated, yet my body does not want to. I like seeing the darkness as I close my eyes. It comforts me in some crazy way, and I don't want to lose it. The level of pain has only gotten worse, and at this point, I'm sure I'm at a point to no return.

Three days. It's been far too long since I've showered. My body alarms me each time I move too quickly. It's not like me to neglect myself for so long. Xyle has done what he can, bringing a hot bowl of water and soap near the bedside and hitting my neck and arms, but I've refused him of anything else. My hair has nearly molded into the position I'm lying in, and I'm sure my body is engraved into the mattress.

I've gotten away with just lying around and sulking in my pain, not doing any work around the house or for my company. Sure he can let me go another three days. He can find it in his heart to be a very compassionate and understanding man of my low will to move around. My eyes have fallen heavy, so has my body.

It even hurts to move my head in a certain way, and I guess it's my body's way of protesting. My favorite pillow now has a very noticeable spot where my tears have ran and gone dry. I'll have to get a new one whenever this feeling dissolves itself for good.

The patient man waits for a few seconds before he starts to tug on the sheets. I feel the only sense of sureness slip away from my body and it sends me into a phase where I just want to whine. Give it back. I don't want to move. I don't want to shower. I pout, still not sure if he even sees me. I can feel the stern movement at the pit of my belly, a moan in pain threatening to erupt. This is torture. Don't torture me, please.

It wasn't likewise for him to ignore my pains and sobs, but as if they hadn't mattered one bit, he starts to protest against me. I feel his hands slip underneath my body. He pulls me close to his chest, holding me securely as he stands himself back up with ease. There's a low gruff that escapes him. In no time, we are moving through my bedroom. I protest any way I can. I let my head fall limp, acting as if I were just a dead body he's carrying around, because to be honest, that's what I feel like.

My head hangs as he sways me through the air, moving so swiftly throughout the room. We enter a different room where the lights are bright. Too bright. My eyes squint but I make no sudden move to protect myself. 

Through my midst of being startled, my consciousness slowly begins to regain. He gently angles his body downwards and places me at the edge of my cold porcelain bath tub. I cringe. The coldness can be felt underneath my thighs and it irritates me.