Zack Foster Fanfiction- The Color Red // Angels of Death Anime

Attempt

It was nerve-wracking having Zack here with me. I know I was the one that agreed, but having him around watching me get clean.. Even still, with the shower doors as the only barrier between myself and him- he looks just about ready to break into the frame and snatch me up.

I had scrubbed down my body, rubbing harshly at my thighs to rid of the blood he stained me with, watching it stream down my legs into a faint orange-pink by my feet into the drain. It is not a good feeling to be washing unknown blood from you.

I take careful glances next to me, watching him through the frosted glass. Zack is sitting on the toilet lid, hunched over with his white face glued to me. He was this huge black blur in the corner of my eye- some demon feasting with his gaze alone. Looming in a terrifying manner.

My breath hitches when sudden tapping goes off, making me turn to see his arm stretching up and his long index thumping against the rain glass. "Just open the door." His voice fell low beneath the stream of water hitting my shoulder, sounding desperate.

I shake my head, replying when I do not know if he saw me do so, "No, the water will spill everywhere.."

"So? It'll dry." Zack continues tapping against the door and soon I start to feel like a fish in a glass bowl.

"I'm almost done." Not really, I wanted to stand under the cool stream for just a bit. I do not know how I will keep myself collected once I come out and he looks at me with those eyes like he wants to either kiss every inch of me, or bite.

Zack has the cruel power of making his soft lips feel like teeth.

He blows out air, dropping his hand and I turn around to grab my shampoo. I squeeze some on my palm and lather it in my hands until I work it through my hair and scalp.

"Why don't you tell me how it went for you..out there." I speak into the clouding air.

Zack makes this sound, like he did not want to really talk about anything at all but still I smile because I know he cannot deny the chance to ramble on and on and,

"There was this tweaker," He starts,

"Tweaker?" I ask as I scrub my head with my fingernails.

"Ya'know, those sad fucks that shoot up and shit. That's what people call 'em." Zack explains and when I do not answer, I see him scratching the back of his head, "..Like those bastards that were on you."

I stop my movements, closing my eyes as I try to forget the nasty cold hands groping me. Thin fingers that felt more like needles pricking all around me- holding my arms back as another pair..

"Okay.." My voice is small and my hands grab the loofa and body wash out of instinct again..feeling like I was not clean enough yet.

"Uh, anyway.." Zack's voice hits me harshly, it is somehow colder than the water that hits my bare skin. "He was getting funny on me, wanting to trade my coat for smack. A single hit or something like that. I gave the dumbass three seconds to run and he tripped on thin air only to freaking split his head clean open on this busted pipeline that was sticking out." His voice got lighter over his words, finding humor in this horrible anecdote.

"Then what?" I tried to finish scrubbing my entire body but the way his chuckles wrapped around his words somehow caught my sole attention that I could not work on doing nothing more but listening to him intently.

"The fucker died, can you believe that shit?" He snorts, the frosted image of his bent figure moved at the shoulders- silently chuckling, "I thought, fuck, what a shitty fucking night- right? Some piece of metal steals my first kill of the night right after getting bashed in my own head by a stupid lamp that left me with this killer headache. Which is all your fault, you dumb bitch." Normally he would be seething, but he sounds way too at ease.