The Bathtub

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Blake gave a breathy gasp of air as she slipped into the hot, soapy water....which burned and caused her bruised skin to tingle.

Blake had walked in a daze for a long while....silently wandering the cool, gloomy corridors, having headed out of the evening sunshine and into the darkness beyond.

She was tired. Exhausted and breathless....the realisation of what she had just done not fully hitting her, until she had found where she wanted to be, that was.

Blake had shoved open the, already-ajar, door, and blinked, gazing around.

Everything was quiet here.

Calm and quiet....as her bloody fingers slipped quietly away from the door handle.

She looked down at them.....down at her sweater...covered in tiny red dots from Lucille.

Part of her should have cared. She knew that. But part of didn't want to. Not now. Not after everything.

And so, the caramel-blonde woman had moved over to the second room, flipping on the light and headed over to the large wash basin and turned on the faucet.

The water was, to her surprise, warm in the tap....and as Blake let out a shaky breath...looking down into the red...then pink...then clear water, as it washed away down the basin...her eyes travelled simply over to the large bathtub, set in the middle of the room.

She had, without a second thought, stood up straight and slipped her grey sweater from her body....

Her sneakers and pants came too....followed by her underwear.

And before Blake had realised what she was doing, she found herself slipping down into the water...the tub now filled with a white mountain of soap suds.

She had found a dusty, disused bottle of bubble bath on the floor nearby, doubting that Negan ever used it, so had helped herself.

For she really didn't care anymore.

More important things had happened today, than Blake using some bubble bath that didn't belong to her.

But it was here, in the hot water of the tub, that she finally let a small tear slip down her cheek....dropping quietly into the water below.

But that was all she would allow herself.

David did not deserve anything more.

It had taken Negan a long time to find her.

After he had searched her room...the bathrooms...the canteen...he had of course, known the next place he would check...

And he had been right.

Strolling into his quarters, he lifted his chin surveying the open bathroom door, light on...the smell of fragrant, humid air, drifting out towards him...

For almost thirty minutes now Blake had sat there, knees pulled up into her, head resting on her folded arms...staring into space.

Every inch of her felt more exhausted now that it ever had....but she couldn't close her eyes...

Not yet anyway. For she knew that if she allowed herself to lie back and drift into that dream world where David still existed, then she would likely never wake up.

Blake lifted a hand to her damp shoulder, kneading at her sore and aching muscles.

But as much as she ached...as much as she was in pain...she knew that that was it. That it was all over now...a huge weight being lifted off of her.

I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, PeachesWhere stories live. Discover now