Zahir raised her head, and Macarena fell into a stupor for a moment.
“What happened?”
“Just returned old duties.”
“Who did this?”
Instead of answering Zahir began handing out instructions. All so cool and strong. Macarena rolled her eyes and walked to the sink, dampened a towel and returned to Zulema.
Silently, Maca lifted her chin.
The threat flared with black fire in Zahir's eyes. And so is alertness.
Macarena couldn’t care less – she couldn’t leave a person in such a shitty state, even if that person was Zulema Zahir.
The brunette held her breath as Maca carefully placed the wet end of a towel on the bruise on her cheek and began to clean the wound gently. Zulema closed her eyes, exhaling smoothly. She bit her lower lip to not make a single sound. Maca sat down next to her, turned the brunette's face to herself and sequentially treated bruise after bruise, in complete silence.
“You hate me, and yet here you are – licking my wounds like an obedient servant.”
Zahir opened her eyes to meet Macarena's. Tears were frozen in her eyes, held back only by stubborn willpower, and a challenge was read in them.
“Do you pity me? After everything I did. And will do. At first opportunity.”
“Zulema,” Maca looked at her indifferently, “shut up.” And she brought a cold towel to her shattered lip. “Be patient a little more. It’s almost done.”
Zahir snorted angrily, but let Macarena finish what she had begun as she closed her eyes again.
“Can you get up?” she heard Maca asked.
Ignoring the tears, which were streaming down her cheeks regardless of her own will and she had no fucking idea why, Zulema was intent on rudely throwing off the annoying blonde, but she saw only compassion and concern in her eyes. So why not, Zulema decided eventually. She grabbed the offered hand and, leaning on Maca, slowly reached the shower.
“Will you rub my back?”
Macarena showed in irritation that she appreciated the joke, curling her lips in a fleeting smile.
She froze for a moment, wondering what to do next – should she help her to undress?
An absurd.
Considering the murderous look in Zulema’s eyes, the brunette apparently thought the same.
Zulema turned on the water and got under the shower in her robe, holding on to the wall.
“From now on I can do it myself. Time is running out, Maca. Don't screw up.”
Macarena studied her look for a second, then nodded. Some part of her, for reasons unknown to her, wanted to help this damn bitch, and, damn it, maybe indeed rub her back. Macarena shook her head, driving the stupid thoughts away.
“What are you waiting for?” Zulema called out to her, bringing her out of a strange trance – Macarena shuddered, looking up from the streams of water and blood, flowing down the clothes adhered to the body and black hair. “Go!”
Macarena turned and hurried to the exit. What is wrong with her? This bitch doesn’t deserve such a treatment. She can’t even –
“Thanks, rubia,” Maca barely heard thrown after her. And she smiled.