The Difference Between Fear and Terror

Untitled Part 29

There is no use siting here and wallowing in self-pity. Anyways, I don't think the boys would allow it. I heft myself up, grab a change of clothes, and head into the bathroom.

I fill up the tub and strip in front of the mirror. I take off all of the bandages. It looks awful. It looks like I was in a knife fight then mauled by a bear followed by a lion. I am covered in scars and bruises in various stages of healing from head to toe. My ribs are prominent, my hip bones sharp.

I sink into the tub, reveling in how the water feels on my skin. How I missed it. 

I wash quickly and get dressed. Though it is warm out I pull on long clothes. Ankle length leggings under and navy skirt and a black long sleeved top. I brush my hair up into a high ponytail and brush my teeth. 

I am starting to feel somewhat like a human being. I go back into the bedroom and root around for the makeup I no exists somewhere.

I swipe on some shiny lip gloss and apply mascara, cover my bruises with  a light coat of concealer. The only visible evidence of the past year is on my hands, and of course my tiny waistline.

The boys don't need to worry about me. They went through enough trouble to get me out of there. It would've been easier for them to just leave me, but they didn't. I am determined to at least act fine. They deserve that much.

I plaster a fake smile onto my face and with pep in my step I go out into the living room. Dr. Setters is gone now.

"Good morning," I say in what I hope is a cheerful tone. I will not stutter. Stuttering makes you weak.

All three of them look at me like I've grown a second head. Dr. Green bounces back quickest. "Good morning Pookie. How are you?" 

"I'm doing great." My voice squeaks slightly and I wince. I really am a terrible liar. i check myself, making sure my smile is firmly in place as they look me up and down.