I blink.
Lil.
Noah’s voice rings in my ear, and my jaw clenches. Furiously, I ball up the washcloth and attack my hand, scrubbing so hard my skin turns red under the scalding water.
Lil.
The fabric I thought was indulgent seconds ago turns into rough bristles with each bite against the top of my knuckles, but I don’t stop.
Get it off. Get it off!
No matter how hard I scrub—I can’t. My breath comes in sharp bursts, the frustration twisting in my chest. The soap has bubbled into a frothy mess, but I bear down harder.
Lil.
Lil.Noah’s voice morphs tohis, and a sob bursts from me.
Lil. You like that, don’t you. Your body is invigorating.
Scrub, scrub, scrub. My hand stings, raw and tender, and I sink to the floor then grip my hand to stare at the spot.
I’m dirty. Used.
Noah’s affection. He could never?—
I throw the cloth against the side tub where it thumps, then slides down in a blob near the drain. My breaths come in faster and faster, my chest heaving as I suck in steamy air. I can’t breathe. I let out a whimper.
You like that, don’t you.
You want this.
“No,” I whisper.
I jerk my head back, and my hair lands with a wet slap. Water cascades into my mouth that’s open in a silent cry.
The water is hot, but I can’t stop shivering.
I can’t breathe. I can’t …
Exhausted, I curl my legs up, wrapping my arms around them, and allow the water to lull me into surrender.
Sun trickles in around the closed curtains, warming my face and the tip of my chilled nose. The light presses against my closed eyelids, dotting a kaleidoscope of muted reds and oranges while a shadow shifts. I peek an eye open.
It’s only the curtains swaying from the return air vent on the floor. They’re navy to match the comforter on the bed, and I groan, rolling over to shove my head under the single pillow. I slept like shit. I haven’t slept so badly since those first couple of years on the road.
My break down in the shower didn’t help. I stayed there, huddled under the spray well past when it went cold. It was only after I could take long solid breaths that I finished up and got out. Mentally drained, I barely towel dried my hair and got dressed before crawling into bed, cocooning myself in Noah’s covers, and praying I’d drift off to sleep instantly. Sleep didn’t come that easy.
I glance at the clock on the rickety nightstand.
No …
Why is it so early?
I will myself back to sleep, but it’s no use. I glare at the clock, wishing the six was actually a nine, and I’d gotten more than four hours of sleep.
Despite the lack of rest, I have concluded that Noah’s bediscomfortable. The mattress is a tad lumpy, but I found the wide dip on the left-hand side where his body must’ve slept repeatedly over the years and buried myself in it.
Resigned to the fact I won’t be falling back to sleep, I kick the covers off me, roll out of bed, and walk over to my backpack propped up near the dresser. After tossing it on the bed, I dig around for the extra leggings I keep stashed away and select an old community college T-shirt from the drawer.
