Subject A250: The Fallen

Seven: Girl Power (and a shower)

Brenda led Trace further through the corridor, making a couple of turns on the way. Trace tried her best to remember where she'd been and how she'd arrived there; it might come in handy later on.

Eventually, Brenda opened a rather indistinct grey door, revealing a large changing room and wall of showers.

"You have half an hour," she said. "There's an open locker with everything you need."

Trace stepped inside the room, quietly taking in the rows of identical blue lockers. The door clicked shut behind her and Trace immediately turned around and opened it again out of panic. Brenda was still standing there, about to turn away.

"What is it?" she asked.

Trace decided not to tell Brenda that she was scared of being left alone in that room; she thought confessing that might just make things worse. Trace did not want WICKED to install a whole new someone-must-be-with-Trace-while-she-showers rule.

"Nothing," Trace replied sheepishly. "I just..."

"What is it, Trace?"

"I...will you wait outside? Am I going to be completely alone? I just...I don't want to be alone again..."

Brenda pressed her a small smile. "I'll wait outside," she said. "I promise. If you need anything at all, I'll be here."

Trace nodded, satisfied with that response. "Thank you, Brenda." She slowly shut the door, letting out a small sigh when she heard it click. Then she went searching for her locker.

It wasn't hard to find. One open door, revealing a towel, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, another towel-- Trace had everything she could possibly want for a shower. She grabbed the shampoo, conditioner and body wash --all coconut scented-- and took them over to the closest shower, situated on the far side of the room, across from where she'd come in, hidden behind the lockers. Immediately, she peeled off the clothes she'd been wearing for a month. "Gross," she muttered, grimacing as she realised they'd gone stiff with dried sweat.

She turned the shower on to full blast and held her hand underneath, shaking her head in disbelief as it warmed up almost instantly. Trace stepped in and stood there for a full five minutes, embracing the feeling of the water running over her skin. Then she reached for the body wash and poured it over herself, scrubbing it in, making sure to use the whole bottle, not knowing when she'd have this opportunity again.

Then she reached for the shampoo. It was only once she'd poured it into her hand that reality began to sink in: they shaved her head. It took a split second for that to hit her but, when it did, it hit in full force. That thought alone was apparently enough to set her off --to push her over the edge, letting her anger spill out. They'd shaved her head and then handed her a bottle of shampoo. Trace screamed and threw the bottle against the wall. It bounced back across the room behind her, the plastic cracking on the tiled floor, spilling the shampoo everywhere, splattering blue liquid across the walls. She picked up the conditioner and threw it out against the aisle of lockers, watching it ricochet back off the metal with a loud, echoing clang, disappearing from view.

She sunk to the floor, shaking as the water ran over her. Trace pulled her knees to her chest, gasping out heaving, wretched sobs. She didn't hear the door open.

"Are you okay?" Brenda asked, from halfway across the room.

No. No I'm not okay. Why the hell would I be okay?

"Go away," Trace murmured, but her words were indistinguishable among her sobbing.

"Ava?"

"Why did you give me shampoo?!" Trace yelled back at her. "You shaved off my hair! Why would you give me shampoo?!"