There wasn’t enough water in all of Chicago to purge the horror she’d witnessed. Wasn’t enough on the wholeplanetto wash her clean of her regret and remorse.
She didn’t know where her tears ended and the water pouring over her head began as she dully watched the red whirlpool circle the drain. Figured it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things since both were getting the job done.
With the help of her bodywash and a good scrubbing with her loofah, it wasn’t long before the spiraling pool at her feet ran clean, all the evidence of the night’s tragedy on its way to the city’s sewer system.
Just that easy.
She laughed humorlessly.
Nothing about this was easy. Nothing was going to be the same.Shewasn’t going to be the same.
Like water when it became ice, she’d retain the same molecular structure she’d had before, but she’d be irrevocably altered.Changed.
She could already feel herself growing harder.Colder.
Cold in places the blistering water and searing steam couldn’t touch.
Lathering her hair with shampoo, she winced when her fingers hit the lump on her temple. Pain rolled around the sides of her head and radiated into the back of her skull. And maybe she was a glutton for punishment because, after leaving the swelling behind, her hand automatically sought out the bruise on her cheek.
The instant her probing fingertips landed on the contusion, she cried out. Even the slightest pressure made her eye socket feel like it was ready to explode and send her eyeball blasting out of her head like a cannonball.
“Stop it,” she scolded herself. “You’re crying because your head hurts? Because your face hurts? Imagine whatCharliemust’ve endured. What he must’ve…” Her voice broke. “What he must’vesuffered,” she finished, her brain conjuring up the image of his bullet-riddled body, the obliteration of his beautiful face.
The grief that slammed into her then was enough to drive her to her knees. She had no idea how long she stayed that way, a supplicant to the sorrow that blew through her as fierce and as cold as the Nor’easters that came down from Canada in the winter and turned the city into a block of ice. All she knew was that by the time her tears dried up, her fingertips were wrinkled like raisins.
Enough,she scolded herself. Although, it was her father’s voice she heard in her head when she continued.You’re being self-indulgent. Get it together. Pick yourself up.
Her first attempt at standing ended with her knees giving out on her, forcing her to pitch forward. For a few moments, she remained that way, letting her head hang between her shoulders, letting the harsh spray beat down on her hips and legs. Then she took a deep breath and tried again.
With the help of the edge of the tub, she managed to shove to her feet. But it felt like her muscles were made of mashed potatoes.
Closing her eyes, she mustered what energy she could to rinse the shampoo from her hair.Nope. It’s a mistake to shut my eyes,she thought when the image of Charlie’s smiling face as he’d slipped the ring on her finger projected itself onto the backs of her eyelids.
Would he have proposed had he known what was in her heart? And if he’d known what was in her heart, would he still have chosen to take the bullets meant for her?
She’d never know the answers. The only man who could give them to her was growing stiff in the city morgue. And it was all so senseless. So useless. So…awful.
The guilt rose inside her like a knife that sliced through bone and viscera. It tried to drive her to her knees again. But she gathered the last of her reserves and switched off the spray.
With one towel wrapped around her body and another curled around her head, she shuffled across the cool tile before stopping in front of the sink. The mirror was foggy. She swiped a hand over the glass and then immediately wished she hadn’t.
Her reflection showed the bruise on her cheek was a deep purple that faded to angry-looking red around the edges. The swelling at her temple was still the size of a golf ball. And the look in her eyes was one she’d never seen on herself.
She’d seen it on her guys a time or two. When they’d come home from a particularly harrowing mission.
“The thousand-yard stare,”Fisher had explained when she’d commented on the phenomenon.“The look of a man who’s seen too much.”
Her gaze skittered away from the mirror. Not because she couldn’t stand the sight of the swelling or the bruises. But because of that look.
As much as the cold that’d settled in her center, that look told her there was no coming back from this. There was the Eliza who’d existed before this night. And there’d be the Eliza who existed after.
As soon as she stuck her electric toothbrush into her mouth, she knew the endeavor was a no-go. Thebuzzwas too much for her throbbing head. She had to switch off the device and do things the old-fashioned way.
Nothing but elbow grease.
Which was fine. There was something comforting in the repetitive motion. Something reassuring about completing such a mundane, everyday task.
She concentrated on scrubbing each tooth one by one until she’d gotten them all. And by the time she rinsed her toothbrush she felt almost…well…not normal.What evenisnormal now?But she no longer felt like she might shatter into a million pieces if someone breathed too hard in her direction.
