Chapter 15: Shower

Sunlight streamed through the tattered pink curtains. I ran my hand over my face. I had a terrible headache, one that felt like lightening had cracked a boulder. I rolled out of bed in search of water. I stumbled to the bathroom, then gulped the cold liquid straight from the tap. The terrible dream struck me as I stared at my wet face in the mirror. I was still dressed in my work smock with the fresh holes torn in my knees. Was that just a dream? How had I gotten home? The angry red lines spiraling up my right arm faded into black as I watched. I blinked. What the hell?

No. No, no, no. I was losing it. I was losing my mind. I screamed, a blood curdling maniac scream. It echoed off the bathroom walls and probably woke up any neighbors still sleeping. My mind went white and my body reacted. I ran.

I don't even remember making it to the street, but my feet carried me there. I sprinted past people but I didn't see them. I ran across traffic, but didn't hear their horns. I just ran. I ran away from all this crazy, from this ridiculousness.

My feet flew, my breath dragged into my lungs in gasping gulps, but I felt nothing. My mind was too far gone. I ran and ran and ran.

Crazy. My mind repeated over and over. I clasped my hands over my ears.

I ran from the crazy.

I couldn't tell you for how long I ran, but slowly my legs gave way. I fell into the dirt. And yet I still ran. My mind ran from the nonsense it had thought up. There was no way any of this was true, not even a little bit. I clawed at the dirt, crawling on my belly away from it. There had to be an escape. I would not end up like my mother.

I hesitated. My hand went to my face in the memory of her cold touch. Was she real? Was she just a construct of my imagination? No, it was nonsense. It was crazy. I clawed forward again, but this time I hit something hard.

My eyes lifted. A boot. I had hit a boot. The failing light around me was shadowed by a dark figure connected to this boot.

The man crouched. His face shadowed by the light behind him. He offered me a hand.

"You look like you need some help," he said, his voice was deep and gravelly. It was familiar, but I couldn't remember it.

I froze. I stared at the hand. Thoughts wouldn't come to my brain. I couldn't even summon enough thought to take the hand offered.

He knelt before me, bringing his boot away from my hand as he did so. He took up my hand in his. It was warm. I stared at it. Thoughts were coming back in slow spurts. What must he think of me? What must I look like right now? Certainly I looked as crazy as I felt.

He squeezed my hand to get my attention.

My eyes lifted. The light behind him dimmed as the sun set. His eyes burned golden hazel. There was something familiar about them, but I couldn't place it.

"Do you think you can sit up?" He asked.

I blinked then very slowly pulled my legs up underneath me. I sat facing him in the shiny sunset. He was a dark figure in front of me holding my hand. He drew small circles over my hand where the thumb connected to the fingers.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I looked down. Blood soaked my slacks. My knees were bloody open wounds matted with dirt. My face and shirt were soaked with sweat. I smelled worse than a manure pile. Tears began to fall. The tears I had begged to fall the night before finally released in small trickles down my face. I shook my head very slowly as I stared down at our connected hands.

"That's alright. It's okay to not be okay sometimes."

That just made me cry more. When people acted like they cared about me it always made it worse. Why couldn't they just leave me be and let me cry it out alone. It was how life was meant to be.

Instead this stranger put a hand on my shoulder. The tears poured from my eyes, but I held my face still. I wasn't going to ball in front of him.

"You've always been so strong. Why don't you let me help you, Kira?"

Kira? He knew my name? I couldn't get more thoughts out as the tears overwhelmed me. My face contorted and I turned away. He wrapped an arm around me and held me to his chest. I fought it at first, but I had no strength. I sagged into him. He smelled of sulfur and charcoal. Why was that familiar?

I heaved out all the sadness, all the crazy, until there was nothing left. I was an empty shell. I was nothing. I had emptied out all feeling and now I was nothing.

He cradled me in his arms. After a moment I realized we were no longer in the fading light in the middle of a field. We were instead on a navy blue couch in front of a burning fire.

I looked around. "How...?" I whispered, my eyes seeking his.

His smile was warm, but he didn't answer. He patted me on the head, another familiar gesture for some reason. "Do you feel better now?" He brushed the streak of tears from one side of my face. I could feel the dirt smear against it.

"I don't feel anything," I whispered.

"You always say that."

My eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind, how about we get you cleaned up? Can you stand?"

I climbed off his lap hurriedly. My legs felt like pudding as I tried to stand. They shook violently. He caught me mid-collapse.

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay. You had a pretty hard run before I caught up to you." He scooped me up in his arms in one fluid motion and carried me to the bathroom. He set me on the closed toilet and started the hot water to the bathtub.

"You were following me?" I asked.

He cocked his head to the side in that half smile again. "I always do."

My face contorted in a scowl. I wasn't sure if I wasn't understanding him or if he was toying with me. I still felt hazy so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

When the tub was half full, he picked me up and set me clothes and all into the warm water. He knelt down until his face was in front of me again. "Get cleaned up and I will make us some dinner." He patted me on the head then left.

I gaped after him. What the hell was going on? I lifted my raw hands. Dirt and blood stained the creases. My feet stung. I had lost my socks at some point. I apparently hadn't left the house with shoes either. I stripped off the dirty sopping wet clothing and balled them up into the corner of the tub. I scrubbed the raw skin clean. The water was brown and red. Chunks of dirt and debris floated around me.

I was sure I was cleaner, but I wasn't clean yet. I pulled the plug, hoping it wouldn't clog the drain. I started the shower. My left arm still hurt from the car accident, so I turned it with my right. I let the rest of the dirt run off of me as I sat in the middle of the tub. I scrubbed at my hair with the hair products in the shower. When I finished, I smelled like a clean man. I shut the water off and pulled myself up to the edge of the tub where I dried myself. The towel still came back with small particles of dirt and fresh blood. I frowned. He probably shouldn't have left me a white towel.