Equals (Marc Spector & Steven Grant X Reader)

Chapter 1

You sat on the edge of your bathtub staring at nothing of great interest yet somehow interesting enough to keep your attention. As You waited for the water to warm up enough to be comfortable to step inside, The torrent that fell from your shower head caused droplets to splash against your back the coolness causing your hot skin to cringe away with each splash.

The water was muffled in your ears the only thing you could focus on was your shallow breathing which rang almost deafeningly, rattling against your ear canal and driving the feeling of anxiety further into your chest. The sped up pounding against your ribcage and the clammy grip of your palms irritating you more now You were aware of it, turning your head away from the spot of dirt You had noticed in your trance finally caused your eyes to break line of sight and slowly brought yourself back into reality.

You put both your hands on the edge of the bathtub beside your thighs and pushed up earning a groan from the action as your muscles screamed once again. You climbed into the shower and pulled the curtain closed to protect the tiles outside from splashes. Your face turned to the warm water and it was a welcomed relief felt through out your body, opening your eyes You noticed the water running red seemingly enamoured as the crimson rushed down the plug hole.

The feeling of dried blood and dirt coming away from your skin was almost euphoric. Your hands were the next thing to capture your fleeting attention as You reached for your almost empty bottle of body wash, shaking from the come down of adrenaline they were covered in a mixture of dirt and blood possibly some skin from the victims throat trapped beneath your chipped finger nails.

You pushed the overthinking to one side for now as You popped the lid off and lathered your hands with the soap allowing them to rub against your skin and remove any traces of the last 12 hours. If You could You would have rubbed your skin raw in hopes to feel clean but it never worked out like that You couldn't get the dirt from under your skin the rot festered in your brain and corrupted everything You touched. You were brought from your daze when You felt your ruined nails scrape against your scalp trying to remove the grime deep from the roots of your hair.

You sucked in a breath almost going dizzy from the steam and heat of the shower before rinsing what was left of the shampoo and conditioner from your hair. Allowing the breath to escape as You reached for the faucet You twisted it and stopped the water flow. Your skin was prickled with the cold air now attacking it once the curtain was opened it only settled when You wrapped a towel around your body, another wrapped around your hair.

You carefully collected the pile of clothes from the floor and shoved them into the over flowing laundry basket on the way out of the bathroom. Your flat wasn't a home and You don't think it ever would be because the entire time you've lived in London it's been out of boxes thrown around the various rooms. You couldn't bring yourself to settle down to really attempt at having a normal life, it wasn't something you could see yourself being allowed to have. Normal. Such a strange concept.

You sat in the middle of your bed cross legged with your phone in the palm of your hand. The dull electric hum of your bedside lamp breaking the silence as you read the latest news, nothing interesting you enough to continue so you shut off the device and placed it underneath your pillow.

The wave of exhaustion finally caught up with you from the previous events and you sighed heavily before falling back and staring at your ceiling, picking at your fingernails trying to even them out and plan how the next day would roll out of you. It was a little game you enjoyed playing because every time you picture it going well it always went the complete opposite direction.

You stopped playing with your fingernails and put them to work removing the two towels from your body, rolling over your feet padded against the cold wooden floor of your bedroom as you searched for a box with your night clothes in. You crouched down to see the boxes a little better, growing annoyed at how bad your organisation was. You reached over and pulled a stray box from beneath your bed almost as if it was hiding from you.