I carefully picked Juliet up again, quickly sliding her into the water. I watched it slowly turn red as blood oozed off her skin. I had to turn away for a moment, disguising it as making myself comfortable. I leaned my back up against the side of the tub and stared at the ceiling, my hair almost touching the water.
A whimper slid between my lips. The water stung my countless cuts and scrapes—particularly the places where my father had placed the edge of the blade flat against my skin and dragged it down like a paint scraper to a canvas—and, coupled with the already-prominent pain of the wounds themselves, I barely had room in my mind left to think.
“Juliet, I know it hurts, but it’ll help clean the wounds.” I murmured frantically, feeling my chest ache at her whimper. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry…”
A tear rolled down my marred cheek. There was a cut running from the corner of my eye down to my jaw that made it look like I was crying blood…
"My fault…" I kept whispering, eyes wide and glazed with residual fear. "All my fault.."
“Jules, Jules, listen to me okay? I need you, love. I need you.” I turned to look at her, sitting on my knees. “It’s not your fault. Fuck, don’t think about it. I love you. Please don’t forget that I love you— more than anything. No one can take that away from us.”
"I'm broken." Unresponsive to his pleas, stuck in some sort of bottomless pit, I repeated a twisted mantra. "I'm unlovable. It's my fault. It's all my fault."
Tear after tear dripped from my jaw and into the warm water below. My lips trembled with each breath I took. It was as if my brain had simply disconnected from the rest of the world, too overloaded with trauma and terror—and I was stuck here. Separate; safe. I began to slip lower and lower into the tub….
And the water closed over my head.
“Jules? No! No, no, no! No!” I lunged into the water, splashing it everywhere in a frenzied panic. I narrowly avoided crushing Juliet, straddling her legs as I lifted her out of the water, grunting in pain from my casted arm.
I was completely limp in his arms, my eyes open and devoid of all emotion. "Let me go…." The whispered plea slipped out before I could properly register it. "The water—It was so nice…."
Her tone broke me. ”No.” My voice cracked, an ugly sob erupting from my throat. “I can’t—“ I wheezed, trying to control myself, but I was far too gone to stop the tears. I hugged Juliet close. “Please, don’t go. Please. Please. I can’t— I… I-I…”
A cry of pain tore itself loose from the back of my throat, but the voice that followed was eerily numb and… broken. "You're holding me too tight, love…. I shouldn't be causing you this pain."
I couldn’t speak, having worked myself into a state of panic. All I could do was stammer and beg, crying as though my tears might mend her. I pressed kisses to her face and lips. To her jaw, her neck, and her arms. Trying to resurrect my love from the grave her father had banished her to.
Tears were pouring down my cheeks, but I felt nothing at all. My emotions were crammed into a tiny box in the farthest corner of my mind, and I wasn’t taking them back out until I absolutely had to.
Her blood was smeared on my lips like a curse. I was soaked in it. Up to my waist in my lover’s blood. It was all I could see, smell, taste. I was drowning in the air, sputtering a choking on sobs and blood. I leaned Juliet back against the tub cautiously, ready to yank her back out of the water if needed. I carefully, meticulously, began to clean— afraid to part my lips again in speech. All I managed was the occasional ragged gasp for air as I scrubbed her wounds— tears leaving clear paths through the blood caked onto my skin.
I just lay there, tracing paths through the crimson water with my index finger, so far gone that I barely flinched as his hands worked their way down my body with a damp towel. The pain dulled to the back of my mind, the colour seemed to bleed from the world around me.
I began to wonder how long I could hold my breath.
After I cleaned out Juliet’s wounds, I paused for a moment, looking at my love through red, puffy eyes. She was even less responsive than before. Her gaze vacant and absent. “Please don’t leave me, love.” I whispered softly, the only noise in the room was my ragged breathing and my tears hitting the water. I grabbed the bottle of shampoo, carefully scooping up Juliet and pulling her into my lap. With tender slowness, I leaned against the wall and began to run my fingers through her hair, taking care not to tug her hard as I used the soap to help unknot any tangles.
I was but a limp body in his arms, possessing none of the energy required to keep myself upright. I knew what kind of a promise he was asking me to make, but…… my lips parted only to let through another exhausted apology.
The average person can hold their breath for thirty seconds without gasping….
“Don’t apologize. You don’t need to. None of this is your fault.” I assured her, my voice raspy from crying. “I love you.” I pressed a warm kiss on her forehead, desperate to see the fire in her eyes. I reached for the shower head, turning it on and using warm water to wash the shampoo from her hair.
"I don't think he loves me."
My voice was flat, emotionless, as if stating a fact. "Angelo. He never loved me. Never will. I'll always be his useless whore of a daughter.."
“He doesn’t matter now.” I rasped, switching out the shampoo for conditioner. “He never did. None of this family shit matters.” I insisted, rhythmically working my fingers through her hair. “I love you. With everything I have. My heart and soul.”
My detached, emotionless self had absolutely no filter. "I'm going to die as Paris's wife. Maybe even before that. You could be married off, too. Our love doesn't matter to the people who have power over us."
Cogs began to turn in my brain. What if we can invalidate the marriage? Something clicked. “You know… if we got married first your marriage with Paris would be completely invalid.” I suggested quietly.
I didn’t respond for a long time. Finally, my voice broke the silence, meek and confused. “Marriage?”
“Only if you wanted. I’ll… I’ll find a way to propose to you for real— if you wanted me to…” I began to rinse Juliet’s hair of conditioner, my hands shaking.
Word by word, Romeo was slowly drawing me from the depths of my mind, coaxing me into the light. “You—You want to—“
“Of course I do. I love you, Juliet. I’d love to be able to call you mine.” I responded softly, shutting off the water. “But I don’t want to pressure you.” I added quickly, running my fingers through her silky hair.