Ferrari (2) DRAFT

31

I lean into Oliver's body, letting him carry me up the stairs of the house. I let out a deep breath, trying to stop my pounding headache. He pushes open the door to his bedroom, but we go straight to the bathroom.

There's still blood on my hands and clothes, and now also on Olivers.

We spent hours in the hospital, waiting for news from the doctors. Liam was already there when we arrived, and the rest of our friends soon followed.

By the time my father was out of surgery, it was pitch black outside. But we weren't ready to go home just yet. The police still needed a statement. I didn't mind though, I wanted to get it out of the way.

Liam and Mary came with us to the police station, but only Liam and I made statements. Luckily, Oliver got to be there with me while I spoke to the officers. I had to relive the whole thing, and it was heartbreaking. I wasn't allowed to see my mother, but I didn't really want to, anyway.

My mother is behind bars and my father is in a coma.

I shudder at the thought.

"Come on, baby," Oliver whispers, placing me in the bathtub.

He undresses me, peeling off my dirty clothes. He turns the water on, and it begins filling up the tub. Oliver removes his clothes as well, but remains in his boxers. He grabs a hand towel from one of his drawers and wets it.

He begins at my arms, scrubbing away the dried up blood and sweat. I'm still shaking, so I lean against the tub, trying to keep myself from slipping.

The water reaches higher and higher, until eventually, it's up to my neck.

"I'm so tired," I sniffle.

"I know, baby, I know," he hurries. "We just need to get you clean first, huh?"

Once my arms are clean, he moves up to my face. Gently, he runs the towel over my cheek, wiping off blood I didn't know was there. I look into the water, watching the red patches disappear from my knees.

"I need to move you to the shower," Oliver says. "Is that okay? I need to clean your hair."

I nod. He scoops me up once more, carrying my dripping body to the other side of the bathroom. He places me down on the tile bench, and switches the showerhead on. He wets my hair, and rubs some shampoo in it. He takes apart some strands, trying to get all the blood out.

My head falls onto his hip, exhaustion getting the best of me.

He rinses my hair, and switches the tap off. He wraps a warm towel around me, and dries my body as much as he can. He picks me up one final time, and places me on his bed. He disappears into his wardrobe for a few moments, but reappear before I can complain about it.

He pulls a shirt over my head, covering me up. I lay down, ready to go to bed. He slips a pair of boxers over my thighs, and tucks me in.

"Don't leave," I beg, grabbing his hand.

"Don't worry baby, I'm right here."

He lifts himself over me, and falls down on the mattress. I turn around, nuzzling my face into his chest. He throws his arm and leg around me, giving me a little nest to lay in.

"I'm so tired," I whine.

"You can sleep now, baby."

I nod, and close my eyes, but as soon as I do, I see blood. I see my dad, laying there, blood pouring out of his wounds.

"What's wrong?" Oliver asks.

"I don't want this. I don't want any of this."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Lucy, I'm so so sorry. I never should have left you there."

I shake my head. "We need to leave."

"Leave?" he asks.

"Go away."

"You want to go on holiday now?" he frowns.

"Not a holiday. I want to leave."

"What do you mean, Lucy?"

"Can we move?"

"House?"

"Cities," I say. "Countries."

"I can't do that baby, you now that," he sighs. "Where would you want to go?"

"Away. Anywhere but here."

"We can go for a little while, if you like."

"No," I shake my head. "It has to be permanent. I don't want to live here anymore."

"Lucy, I know this is hard, but we can't just leave everything. Don't you want to be here for your father? And your mother? They're going to want you in court."

"Exactly," I groan. "I don't want any of that."

"Baby..." he sighs. "What do you want?"

"I need to..." I stumble. "I need to get out."

"Lucy-"

"I can't be here anymore."

I wriggle myself out of Oliver's arms, sliding out of bed.

"What are you doing?" he sits up in bed.

I hurry out of the room, sliding into my sneakers in the process. Oliver calls out my name, trying to catch up with me. I barrel down the stairs, my mind made up.

"Lucy!" Oliver yells, his tone much angrier. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

I swing open the front door, and run over to my house. Aretta is fast asleep by now, and Mary is with Liam in the main house.

Oliver doesn't catch up to me until I'm in my room, unzipping an old duffle bag. He holds onto my arm, stopping me from returning to my wardrobe.

"Lucy. What are you doing?"

"We're leaving," I say. "Go pack your things."