Chapter Twenty Nine:
Theodora sat on the granite counter tops of Malcolm's kitchen, a box gripped delicately in her hands. She dumped the contents out onto her lap, six tea bags landing oddly across her thighs.
I think my mother's been dosing me. In the chamomile she always makes me.
She shook her head, examining one. His mother must've brought her own bottle of it, then dump it into the tea before she leaves. There was no way to mix in with dry tea leaves, unless she mixed them together and waited for them to dry before playing the leaves into a tea bag. But did Malcolm purchase his tea from the grocery store or did his mother gift him with it every time?
She huffed, jamming the little tea bags back into the box, sliding them onto the counter beside her.
Jessica couldn't be capable of aiding a serial killer... could she?
"No." Theodora shook her head, "Don't think like that."
Theodora wasn't particularly fond of Malcolm's mother, nor was she of Theodora. Yet, she couldn't quite wrap her head around his mother knowing everything and not acting on it. How could you know your husband was killing innocent women, without contacting the cops. Instead, your little boy had to wander into something and put an end to it himself because he knew right away how horrible it was. If she truly did see him open that box, and yelled at him to keep away... letting Martin Whitly continue on like that.
And for Jessica to constantly shut down Malcolm whenever he spoke of the girl in the box, telling him over and over she never existed... was that because it helped her own conscience? Reassuring herself it never happened, that she didn't see what her son had. That it was never an event to begin with—
A crash sounded, and Theodora slipped off the counter, staring at the entry way. Footsteps thundered up the stairs and a disheveled Malcolm rushed in and towards the bathroom.
"Malcolm—"
"I'm fine!" He cursed, the door slamming shut. Theodora's eyes widened, following after him. She nudged the door open to see him standing at the sink, running a hand under water. Blood dripped down onto the white porcelain sink, disappearing down the drain.
"What the hell happened? Where were you?"
"Shrink." He grunted applying pressure, "Gil called, we need to meet him somewhere downtown for a case."
"What happened to your hand?"
He shook his hand, "Nothing, I'm fine."
Theodora watched silently, the running water making him wince. She reached out a hand and turned the faucet off, to which he flicked back on again. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were much to focused on sink. She shoved him out of the way, standing in front of the sink, whacking the facet off once again.
"Malcolm!" She yelled, breaking his gaze, snapping him back into reality. "Look at me!"
His eyes darted everywhere but her face, his breaths were short and panicked. Theodora remembered the last time he was like this, it had been so long ago. It was what made him stop seeing his father, over 10 years ago.
"Look at me!" She snapped, a hand holding his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "Take a deep breath."
His hands continued to shake and she grabbed ahold of one, holding it tightly. His other hand, the bloody one landed on her shoulder, gripping tightly. "One, two, three, four—"
He closed his eyes, "Five, six, seven, eight, nine ten."
"Deep breath." Theodora said again, not breaking eye contact. They stared at each other as she watched some of the panic seep away. "You're doing good, Mal. Think about something else."
"Like what?" His voice was soft, fearful.
Theodora pursed her lips, "What makes you happy?"
"Working."
She shook her head, "Because it takes your mind off your father."
"Don't mention him. Don't."
He looked down, breathing panicked again. Her hand was still on his chin and she tapped his cheek, eyes meeting hers once again. "Remember that time in school when you went to go ask Missy Tremble out to that dance?"
"Yes."
"I need more than one word answers."
Malcolm sighed, "I asked her in front of all her friends, I thought maybe if we were surrounded by people she'd say yes."
"Instead she said no, laughed at you then they all walked away."
"I didn't need to remember that."
"The day of that dance, when you had nobody else to go with, I found you in your dorm on the floor watching a true crime documentary. You were wearing... something like you are now—"
A small smile, "I looked up and you were in a long black dress. Your hair was curled, and you were wearing makeup, you had jewelry on and everything." He continued, hands no longer shaky. "You smiled big and asked me what the hell I was doing. That I should've been ready and have picked you up earlier because that's what a gentleman would do. I stood up... you said I looked handsome and I stumbled over my words because I... I—"
Theodora smiled, dropping her hands to her side. Malcolm was never lost for words, but colour had returned to his face and his hands were still, his breathing back to normal.
"You feel better?"
He opened his mouth but closed it, nodding slowly.
She lifted his injured hand off her shoulder and held it, examining the cuts. "What did you do?"
"Smashed a water glass."
"In your own hand?"
"Yes."
Theodora frowned, turning out and opening up the wall cupboard. A roll of gauze tumbled out and she grabbed it, unrolling a few strips before tearing it away with her teeth.
"Move over here." She pointed across from her, placing his hand under the tap. Theodora moved closer, not spotting any left over glass. She turned the water on, watching it hit against his skin. When she switched it off, Malcolm handed her a cloth, dabbing it gently. He winced, and she snorted.
"You get bit by poisonous snake, and almost always get shot but this makes you wince?"
A chuckle, eyes narrowing where she gently touched his hand. She tossed the cloth aside and grabbed a strip of gauze, wrapping it tightly around his palm. A few minutes later she finished it off, placing a safety pin between layers to keep it together.
"Brand new." She exclaimed stepping back, smiling. "Voila!"
"Thanks."
Theodora nodded, walking out of the bathroom. "I'm not cleaning the blood on the bathroom floor though, that was your fault and this is also your apartment." She glanced at her shoulder, the one he had held onto. She was still wearing his shirt, and now the shoulder was stained with blood. "Also, I'm not responsible for the staining of this shirt."
The door clicked shut, and she frowned glancing back at it. She heard the shower turn on, and she glared.
"I just put that gauze on your damn hand." She huffed, looking around. Theodora pursed her lips, placing hands on her hips. "What to do... what to do."
She stood like that for awhile, staring about the apartment. Staring at the painted walls, counting all the grains in the wood floors.
"Theo?"
She turned, eyes landing on Malcolm's bare chest.
"You aren't wearing a shirt." She closed her eyes, cursing herself silently. "Yes?"
"There's a clean grey button up in my second drawer, in the dresser by the window. Could you grab it?"
She nodded, rushing into his room. Theodora found the shirt easily, tossing it to him.
He gave her a nod, "Thanks."
The door clicked shut again and she blinked, "damn."
"I heard that."
Theodora's eye widened, "I didn't say anything!"
When he stepped out, he was fully dressed, wet hair slicked back. He looked like he was okay, but his right eye gave an occasional twitch and his index finger of his left hand joined. His mind was still on it, and it would be a matter of hours before he fell down that void again.
She followed him into his room, "Why don't you go without the blazer?"
"Because then the suit isn't complete."
"But you know it looks nice without it. More casual."
He glanced back at her, "Maybe next time."
Theodora looked down at herself, still in clothes that weren't hers. "I can't go to a case dressed like this."
Malcolm snorted, walking over to his closet. He pulled open the door and dragged out a small box, opening it before sliding it towards her.
"Here."
Her brows knitted, kneeling down she touched the pile of clothes. "Are these mine?"
"All the stuff you leave here. I thought maybe this would happen and you'd need clothes."
She shrugged, digging through it. She found a pair of black jeans she thought had been long ago lost and a grey shirt, yet once laid out in front of her she realized it was Malcolm's.
"This is yours."
"Oh?" He walked over to her, "I'll put it away."
"Or, I'll wear it today. It was in my box."
He rolled his eyes, checking his watch. "C'mon, we need to leave in five minutes."
Theodora collected the items and rushed to the bathroom, quickly changing. She tucked the large shirt in her jeans then quickly tied her hair up into a ponytail, glancing at herself in the mirror before throwing herself out of the bathroom. She stumbled out the door, earning a laugh from Malcolm.
"You're very graceful, Theo." He gave her a lopsided smile.
"I try." She mumbled walking past him, heading down the stairs. "Come on, we're gonna be late."