Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 35 -

"I'm alright," I said softly. My thoughts were too fluttery to manage a better analysis of my own feelings. In fact, the more I tried to dissect them the more confused I became. I was truly too tired to think.

"Are you really?" Damian reached out his head, and began to wipe away the tears on my face, but I pulled away. I couldn't bear it. It was too much...the gentleness...the brutality...everything...too much. I was so tired. Damian's forehead creased with concern. "Samara...please..."

I wasn't sure what he was trying to do. His hand was still reaching for me, but would not touch after I had rejected it. I wanted it back and couldn't manage to ask for it. I cleared my throat, and wiped my own tears. "You said Rachel was going to draw a bath for me?"

He seemed shaken by my question, as if experiencing a sudden crash back to reality. "Oh. Yes. Of course. I'll...show you to the bathroom."

I didn't want to put back on the bloody, filthy dress, so I merely clutched it to my front as I followed Damian upstairs. I couldn't take my eyes off him: this man that had thrown my emotions into such a storm that I could no longer even name what I felt. He still remained an utter mystery to me. An exorcist with no god, a doctor of the paranormal, a gentleman of the deepest perversions. I knew nothing of his history, his secrets - I only knew that he surely had many. Yet it seemed beneath his roof I would remain, and under his guardianship - if I even dared called it that.

What now was to become of us, after what I had asked of him? After what he had given me?

The bathroom door was slightly ajar as we approached, and I could see the steam within floating in the light of numerous gas lamps upon the walls. As Damian opened the door and stepped aside so I could enter, I could not hold back a gasp. The floor was smooth, tiled white stone. The walls were dark wood paneling on the lower half, and the upper half was papered a pale cream dotted with golden roses. The bath itself - massive, snow-white porcelain - was partially obscured by a Chinese folding screen, lacquered with a scene of gray herons amongst reeds. The tub sat before a tall window through which I could see the shimmering stars of the night sky. A cluster of shining copper piping that snaked from the floor to the ceiling had been used to already fill the bath with steaming water. There was even a toilet with a pulley, a luxury afforded only to the wealthy. It made me wonder again at just what riches Damian truly had.

A gramophone sat upon a table in the corner furthest from the tub, and Damian cranked it to life as I stood marveling at the room, still clutching the filthy dress to my breast.

"I hope you don't mind my taste in music," Damian said, as the record crackled to life. The sounds of a slide guitar filled the room, accompanied by a bluesy gravel hum. "I'll leave you to your privacy." There was a note of regret in his voice that I did not completely understand. He slipped out the door, but I heard him linger outside, and the creak of the floorboards as he sat. He didn't trust me to be entirely alone, I guessed. I could not blame him.

I discarded the ruined dress and stepped up to the tub. Behind the folding curtain stood a mirror in a gilded frame of gold and dark wood, giving me the first glimpse I'd had of myself in days. My hair was a rats nest, coiled and frizzed, spackled with blood, dirt and twigs. My dirty face was streaked with tears. Blood had sprayed across every surface of my skin that had not been covered by the dress, and my feet were black from running barefoot.

I turned, and looked over my shoulder to take in the sight of my reddened backside. Damian had certainly been thorough. My pale flesh was cherry red, bright and throbbing. I brushed my fingers lightly over it, smiling at the tingle my touch elicited. That feeling that had overcome me as I lay over Damian's lap still lingered: like the calm of a storm having passed, destruction sitting quietly, utter peace in surrender.