I wanted to do nothing more than run to the bathroom and vomit. My stomach churned. I couldn’t believe what was in front of me. I leaned down towards Rosie and begin to pick her up. She was so fragile, barely the girl I saw on campus at the bookstore with her snarky remarks and comebacks; the girl that knew the answer to every question in our Art History class; the one who enjoys the Peanut Butter cup swirl milkshake just like as much as I do.
I lift her up as best as I could into my house, closing the front door behind me.
“Rosie? Hey? Can you hear me?” she didn’t answer me back. I didn’t expect her to. She was fucked up; I didn’t even know if she was conscious at that point. I carried her up the stairs to the apartment on the second floor. Once we got up there, I immediately took her to the bathroom. I turned her on the toilet as I ran the bathwater in hopes to clean her up. She immediately kneeled toward the ground and puked into the toilet bowl. I quickly held her hair back. I was so confused about what happened to Rosie tonight. It broke my heart to see her in this condition. She was unrecognizable.
“Rosie?” I try to look at her, but she drops her head low. I lift her from the ground and help her get into the bathtub. She sits there, still in her dress and matted hair. I went under the sink cabinet to grab washcloths to clean Rosie up. Her nose was covered in dry blood. Her upper lip was cut. Her eye was swollen shut. I look at the rest of her body and notice the new bruises. I also notice the old ones I’ve noticed on her weeks before. My gut feeling was right and I felt so fucking stupid for not helping her when I had the chance.
I gently placed the washcloth on the cuts that were on her face. She winced in pain and panicked once she realized I was sitting there.
“Hey, hey. It’s me, Micah. You’re safe, I promise,” I tell Rosie, trying to calm her down. Fuck, man; what really happened to you? She takes deep breaths and looks around. She holds her head in her hands, which I immediately prevent from happening. “Let’s keep your head up, Roe.” God forbid she passes out from a concussion or something. I run the faucet and take the empty glass from the sink to fill it up with water so she can drink something.
“Here, drink some water.” I hand the glass of water to Rosie, which she begins to drink. I can see the trace of blood on the glass when she stops. She looks at me and begins to shiver. I yank the towel from the shower rod and place it on the sink as I help Rosie up from the tub. I wrap the towel around her and walk her to my room where she could change into something warmer. I sit her down on my desk chair as I go through my dresser for some clothes. I take out a sweatshirt and sweatpants and turn around towards Rosie.
“Here, you can wear these and get out of those clothes,” I said as I hand her the clothes. She doesn’t take them. “Rosie?” I call out for her. She slowly lifts her head up. She’s not gonna be able to get dressed by herself.
“Hey, Rosie… Is it okay if I help you put these clothes on you?” I asked politely. She doesn’t answer even if she’s shivering intensely now. “Come on,” I slowly stand her up to unzip her dress from the back. “I’m going to take off your wet dress, okay?” She doesn’t answer. I unzip her dress slowly and gently slide the straps down her arms. The dress drops to the floor and I look back up towards Rosie. My eyes widen. What the actual fuck happened to you? She was covered in various colors of bruises. Her hips were bruised the worst; I squeezed my eyes shut at the sight. They open when she screams. I panic at the noise.
“Stay away! Stay away, please!” Rosie cries out, backing away from me.
“Shh, Rosie; it’s okay, you’re safe–“
It was too late. She was panicking and I tried to calm her down. When I tried to cover her body with the towel at least, she scratched my face with her nails. I immediately reacted to the pain, holding my face.
“Fuck! Roe, please calm down, you need to put some clothes on,” I pleaded. She grabbed her wet dress from the floor and ran out of my room. I was afraid she was going to hurt herself; she was barely able to move on her own in the first place. I ran after her, trying to calm her down until I heard her scream in the living room. I ran toward the living room and stop as soon as I see Rosie. She’s on the floor, hands over her head, sobbing.
My mom and dad stand near the front door, shocked to see her there, and me holding my face.
Fuck.
Letters From Liz. 