Willow and Jodie Hunter, two sisters who are thrown into a new world order, must rewrite their odds. Everywhere the sisters may turn, cold rotten hands reach out for their flesh. Threatening their lives and moral compass. Survival is their priority...
"Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."
~ Benjamin Franklin.
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~♡~
The warm water felt heavenly against my skin. My hair stuck to my back, while my fingers brushed through each wavy strand. Getting all the knots and tangles that had formed due to the lack of care. The soot of dirt scattered the shower floor, I watch as the outside world swirl down the drain slowly. Leaving behind those dreadful days.
I hadn't realized how filthy I've become. How much dirt I've picked up along my journey to Atlanta. I allow water to splash against my face, cleaning my pores. Washing off any patches of dry blood that I might have missed.
Moments later, I step out of the glass shower. Drying myself off with the white fluffy towel Jenner gave out before disappearing. How nice it felt to finally be clean again. Oh, how I've missed treating myself to showers, treating my hair with kindness, living a life of what used to be. We took those days for granted.
I pull on a large shirt Jodie found in one of the empty rooms over my head. The bottom of the white shirt touched above my knees. Long enough to look like a dress on my thin body.
With my already used towel, I wipe the humidity from the wide mirror, needing a glance of myself since I did not dare to look in the mirror before my shower. I could not bear knowing what filth clung to my body. The reality would send me on the edge.
Green eyes peer back at me. Eyes I've known since I could create memories. The woman, who gazed back at me, I no longer recognized. This woman is much thinner - a lot thinner - dark bags hung underneath her tear line. While her brows needed some plucking. Even her skin held a darker complexion due to sun exposure. She's still a looker despite the obvious change, but unrecognizable. I am unrecognizable.
I step out into the large room where Jodie lay on the leather sofa, reading what looked like a comic book. She wore her damp curls up in a messy bun and a large white shirt matching my own covered her body.
Jodie is recognizable. Comic book in hand. Gum in her mouth as she tries to ignore that anything exists. Sounds like Jodie. If only her cellphone held service, man, the end of the world might as well not have happened.
Only, I know deep down Jodie is trying to hide her true feelings. Anthony is gone. The boy might have been an occasional troublemaker but he did not have to die. Not like this.
And the things Jodie had said back in the RV - I am too tired to express my true feelings. Not now.
Jodie cranes her neck to look at me. She lowers her comic, smirking. "Always liked you better with no blood staining that gorgeous face," Jodie teased. I simply roll my eyes, pushing my dirty clothes into my bag. The glint of a bottle catches my attention. A single bottle of wine sat on the dresser, calling my name. How could I forget that beautiful bottle?
