As I sat in Jax’s bathtub, I felt.. comatose.
It had been twelve hours since I’d found out Roderick had killed my father.
Eleven since I’d woken up.
And I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t eat. Somehow, I was managing to breathe.. and that was all I had in me for now.
It was morning now, and the rain hadn’t stopped. The storm was still beating down on the small window in Jax’s bathroom.
His fingers were in my hair, gently massaging shampoo into my scalp from where he sat outside of the tub. He hadn’t begged me to speak today. He hadn’t begged me to get out of bed, or begged me to eat.
He was simply helping me do all the things I couldn’t do right now, like wash my hair.
I wrapped my arms around my naked legs, and laid my chin on my knees as I stared out the window.
I felt hollow.
F
