I leave the room, and I listen to her hoarse screams through the balled-up sock in her mouth as I shut the door and lock it. I go to the kitchen and I turn on her central heating. I listen to the boiler fire to life and I know I’ll be warm soon. I take off my bloody, soaking-wet clothes and I put them in her dryer, and I turn it on and then I walk naked through her house and I go up the stairs.
She has to have some other clothing here. Even if it’s Mr. Fancy Asshole’s. I don’t even care right now. My muscles are aching and my jaw hurts from my teeth chattering together so hard. I’m freezing cold and I just want to be warm.
I go to the bathroom and grab the towel from earlier, and I wrap it around myself. And I sit on the edge of her bath and I feel like I can finally breathe again as the soft material brushes against my body and my teeth stop chattering.
I look at the bath and sigh because I’m so fucking tired and cold, and then I get down on my knees and I scrub the bath with some detergent and a scrubber from under the sink. Neither look like they’ve been used before.
When the bath is relatively clean, I put the plug in and I turn the taps on, and I think how glorious it will be to take a bath. I don’t normally like baths; what’s so great about lying in your own filth? But right now, I can think of nothing better than being cocooned in the warm water.
When it’s full I drop the towel and I step into the hot water. My skin prickles with delight as I sink into the depths. I leave my damaged arm dangling over the side of the tub as I let everything but my face rest below the water—even my ears.
My muscles relax as they heat up. My heart thumps happily in my chest.
I’m here, Carrie is here, and we’re both okay. I sigh and I close my eyes against the sterile white bathroom.
Everything is going to be okay now.
