Misconduct

twenty three | soon you'll get better

"I can't even move my arms. It's-It's like my whole body is numb." I sob into my palm, embarrassed at the words coming from my mouth.

He bobs his head and swallows loudly. "Alright, erm, that's alright. I can help you. Can I take this off for you?"

If you had told me yesterday that I'd have Logan Romano crouched down in front of me, his hair dishevelled from where my fingers had been tugging, asking to take my dress off, well, I probably would have collapsed.

This is what I wanted. This is what I spent a week fantasising about. This moment right here.

Yet it's nothing like I pictured or hoped for. This is a freaking nightmare.

"Okay." I mutter, lifting my arms up for him to slip the straps down.

Logan keeps his eyes locked with mine, his gaze not wavering for even a split second as he moves the material down my skin and exposes my bare chest.

He takes the sweatshirt off my lap and pulls it over my head, down my shoulders and slowly guides my arms into the holes. He's careful to never look away, to never touch me anywhere he doesn't absolutely have to, until my chest is fully covered by his hoodie.

"Need me to do the sweatpants?"

I nod and try to ignore the chills that shoot up my spine when a callous hand grips my ankle. His fingers struggle slightly with the tiny silver buckle on my stilettos but once the clasp is released, he has no issue sliding it off my foot and repeating his actions with the shoe.

Next, I lift my hips slightly up off of the mattress so he can slide my dress down my legs. That's when his hazel eyes are locked with mine again, not daring to move.

I'm thankful for that. I think the last thing I want is for Logan to see me naked for the first time while I'm like this. With tangled hair, ruined makeup from the trails of tears, smudged mascara and a stress-induced rash covering my chest. 

I want him to think I'm sexy, desirable. Not a fragile, broken, little doll.

"Done." He tells me once he's pulled on a paid of his boxers and tied the sweatpants drawstring into a triple knot. They still hang far too loose when he pulls me to my feet, but it will have to do.

We've already wasted too much time. Time I need to spend with my Dad. Time I need to spend comforting my little brother, holding my Mom's hand, interrogating the nurses, saying goodbye.

Time. That's all I want. 

"I-It's-" I cough, as if that will help get rid of the lump in my throat. "It's my Dad."

Logan furrows his dark brows as he zips the now packed duffle bag shut.

"In the hospital." I clarify, casting my eyes down to the oversized clothing on my body. "My Dad is in the hospital and I, erm, they don't think he-he-"

My shoulders begin to shake while my body betrays me and I let out a violent sob. My fist lurches out to cover my mouth, my teeth grinding into my skin as I try to force the crying to stop.

Stop it, Nova. My mind chants. You're stronger than this, Nova. I tell myself. Get a grip, Nova. I can hear my Mom saying.