Dead Ones

Chapter 7: Riverside Refuge Introduction

My eyes slowly drifted open with morning light. I sat up in bed. Standing at the foot of my bed, staring at me, was the little servant girl. I jumped slightly at her immediate presence. She smiled at me. I half smiled back. I kicked my legs off the side of the bed and slid off, standing. "Your introduction outfit is in the closet for you. Breakfast is ready downstairs," she said. "Can I wear my weapons?" I asked. "You can wear whatever you'd like. I just figured you'd want to get out of those old clothes of yours. Would you like me to wash them for you?" she asked politely. "Burn them," I said. "I can do that too" she said. "I cleaned your boots and the skull mask thing you wore around your neck," she told me. "Thank you," I said. "You should probably shower and clean up your hair and face for the introduction ceremony," she said. "I left you some shampoo and soap in the bathroom, along with a towel and wash cloth," she added. "I saw your hair clippers and razor on the dresser. Would you like me to cut your hair?" she asked. "No, that's alright.  I plan on keeping the hair for a bit. My friends don't know I'm here yet and if Cyrus keeps my name a secret they still won't know, so I should go on disguising myself," I told her. "As you wish, Mr.Grim," she said with a slight dip in her head. She began to walk to the door. "Hey," I called out, to stop her. "Yes Mr.Grim?" she said. "Don't call me that. Just call me Grim," I told her. "I never did catch your name," I added. "Sophia," she said. "But you can call me Sophie," she said, with a friendly smile. "Since we're friends now, I won't refer to you as mister and you can use my nickname," she said. "Have a nice shower," she added, as she left the room. She was nice. She seemed to be in her mid to early twenties. She was short and she had a child-like attitude about her. I felt bad that she had to personally work for that weirdo. I walked to the door and locked it. I undressed fully and walked into the bathroom. I walked over to the mirror. I was more filthy than I was when I gazed at myself in the old man's house. The wound across my left eye had nearly healed fully. My hair was dirty and clumpy with mud and clotted, dried blood. My brown beard with the occasional grey hair was more of a black and red color now. Stained with blood and mud. My face was streaked with blood droplets, dirt stains, and sweat. My overall skin tone of my torso had darkened, as it did with the rest of my body. I was so dirty it darkened my very skin. My hands and forearms, still coated with blood of the dead and the living alike. My knuckles were still scabbed over. I surveyed my mid section again, as well as my back. My tattoos and scars were almost unrecognizable, even to me, who knew each of them well. I stepped into the tub and turned on the shower. It ran at a lukewarm temperature over my body. It stung slightly. The water coming out of the shower head was clear. The water going down the drain was brown with a twinge of red. I poured some shampoo into my hand and began to lather up my head and beard, then my armpits. I ran my fingers through my hair, untangling it and breaking loose all the grime. I lifted my face upward, letting the water run down my face. I lowered my head again. I opened my eyes. I looked into the mirror from the shower. I watched water droplets run down my face, drip from the tips of my hair and beard. I looked into my own eyes. Cold, dead, and changed. They scared me. The part of me I locked away, the part of me that I was during the war, was coming back. I was becoming the embodiment of my name once more. I broke connection with the staring reflection. I lathered up the washcloth with the bar of soap. I ran the cloth through every corner of my body, scrubbing the dirt and sweat and blood away. I rinsed the soap off of my body. I wrung out the washcloth, getting most of the soap out of it. I hung it on a bar outside of the shower. I poured more shampoo on my hand and washed my hair, beard, and armpits again. When I finished washing off all of the soap, I took a moment to stand under the warm water to think. I thought about my friends. I was excited at being able to see them again, but not endanger them by my presence. We could operate and survive together, but I, Grim, didn't have to be a part of it. This new me could pretend. I could start fresh. Live a new life...