He ruined our lives.
Gabriel is still ruining our lives.
That’s why I’m doing this.
That’s whywe’redoing this. So he can’t continue to hurt us.
The lock clicks open, and I hastily wipe the tears from my face, covering the droplets on the bed before shooting my towel-clad angel a heavy smile.
“You smell good, like strawberries.”
Dropping her wet clothes on the corner of the bed, she pulls a bottle from underneath her armpit and tosses it to me. “Go shower, and you can smell like strawberries too.”
Her voice is husky from all the tears shed, but the anguish is still fresh on her face. I don’t want to dig into the wound by making her talk about it now, and as much effort as it takes to bite my tongue, I do it.
For her sake, I do it.
“I’ll be right out,” I promise, taking the bottle and a spare change of clothes from my bag. Dipping low, I give her a swift kiss on the lips and hobble into the compact bathroom.
Squinting my eyes, I shield my gaze from the intense glow of the overhead halogen lightbulbs and flip on the shower. Freezing water splashing against my calf as the lower faucet spurts.
I give it a moment to warm up, letting my eyes adjust to the lighting as I stare at my reflection.
I try to keep my focus on my eyes since that’s the only area I don’t see my brother’s face. It’s a safe space as I find myself getting lost in the swirls of colors forming around my pupil.
They’re light and trustworthy. Everything my brother turned out not to be.
Stripping myself of my briefs, I jump under the blistering spray and scrub the fatigue, upcoming drive, and memories off my body. But where the drowsiness and aches can be washed away by piercing warmth, the memories stay. They burrow in the grooves of your bones and suck the nutrients from your blood like a fucking leech.
Memories at some point stop being thoughts and become one with your DNA, and as much as I’d like, I can’t just rinse that away.
Squirting a heaping pile of artificial strawberry-scented shampoo into my hand, I start scrubbing my scalp, drifting lower and lower until my entire body smells of Amira, taking over my senses until all those memories fade away.
It works, but only for a moment.
Sometime today, Amira and I will be home and all we’ve run away from will be at our feet. I don’t know what that’s going to do to us.
The reminder that it could fucking ruin everything has me halting in my hair washing. Soap falls into my eyes, burning my vision away, but I don’t even care because all I can think about is losing everything I’ve worked for.
Everything we’ve fought for.
Finishing up my washing, I shut off the shower and grab a fresh towel from the rack just outside the shower curtain.
Steam fills every inch of the room, dousing the mirror and countertop in a moist, dense fog.
I don’t bother drying my body before sliding on my clothes, completely disregarding my boxer briefs before sliding on my jeans. The denim snags on the wetness of my thighs, giving me hell as I tug them to my waist.
My dripping hair sends currents of water down my back, soaking my black long-sleeve within seconds as I take my toothbrush from the sink and cleanse the morning funk away.
I take my time scrubbing the film away from my mouth, not quite ready to venture outside this room, knowing the second I get in that car, there is no turning back.
We’re going to do this, I keep telling myself.
We have to do this.
It’s the only way.
I’m just not ready.
