I pulled a face when I looked in the mirror. I looked like a ghost. Admittedly, it probably had something to with refusing my last two meals and barely sleeping because of nightmares for the last few nights, but it was still shocking. Jacob thought I'd completely lost it when I didn't touch what he put in front of me, but I'd just told him I wasn't eating anything until I got the chance to wash. It sounded so stupid, but the practicalities of this 'lock-down' were getting ridiculous.
Of course, I got what I wanted. My stomach was still protesting, but I needed a shower. My hair looked almost dead - the problem with having hair as short as mine was that bad hair days were a complete calamity, when you cared. My solution always used to be to tie my hair up and hide the mess, but I didn't get that option when it was like this. And that meant that the only thing I could do was let it fall in its drank, dirty way around my face until I washed it again. It wasn't something I allowed to happen often.
He wasn't happy with me, but Calix folded. Locking the door behind me, I picked up the clothes from the pile I'd been given and started to examine them. I frowned. He wasn't helping me. I suspected he knew it as well. There was absolutely no way I was putting what I was wearing now back on after my shower, but he had to be kidding.
I didn't used to mind jeans. It wasn't that they didn't look right on me or anything stupid like that, it was just that they were so limiting - denim didn't stretch, and once it got wet things always went downhill. Sometimes literally. Although I loved the feel of it, adoring the rough texture that stroked against my skin with every motion, denim simply wasn't practical - and in my mind, if I couldn't move in it, it wasn't an option.
I thought about it as I washed, the water spilling down my back as my warm hands massaged my head to wash through my hair. I supposed it could have been worse. It wasn't as if he'd gone all out and was expecting to get me in a skirt or anything - that would just be impossible. And if the worst came to the worst, I'd just have to find something that could rip through the fabric.
That was only if I ended up racing while I was wearing them anyway, and I didn't see that happening. Aside from anything else, it really would be a shame to cut them. Just because I knew that they weren't my style didn't mean I had no taste. They looked pretty expensive as well, especially considering he probably wasn't going to see me in them. Thinking about it, he was probably trying to soften me up with their price - I expected that that had worked on most of the girls here. But he should know me better than that.
Scrubbing my body quickly and loving the feel of the soap against my skin, I tried to focus on the water falling around me rather than everything else fighting for attention in my mind. This might not seem like much, but being allowed this far out of the room was a start. I guessed I could be completely out of it by the end of the week if I tried.
Well, my mind argued when I stepped out and grabbed a towel. That's still hopeful thinking.
I rubbed my hair violently, trying to get rid of the excess droplets before I straightened up and wrapped it around me. There were a few other things I had to take care of too.
Who cared if it was hopeful? If I didn't have hope, I wouldn't be me.
A while later, when I eventually got around to focusing on the water that still clung to my skin and began to run the towel across it, the door opened. I immediately clutched the thick fabric closer.
"Aw, damn girl," someone said behind me as I whipped around. "I was hoping for more than that."
I glared at him. "Get lost, Jacob."
"But," he continued, acting as if I hadn't spoken. I didn't like the way his eyes were scanning me. "What I did see was nice, I'll tell you that."
"You're just horrible," I told him spitefully.
He raised his eyebrows. "Fine, if that's your way of accepting a compliment."
I tried to stare him down, but he couldn't have cared less. I nodded a little, not moving my eyes from his. "That door was locked."
"I know," he pointed out. "But it shouldn't have been, and you know it."
I bit down on my tongue, fighting the response that bubbled to my lips. I bit the inside of my cheek, stopping myself from shouting. When I did speak, my voice was controlled although it was obvious how difficult it was to keep it that way in my tone. "Get out, Jacob."
"What? Is our little superstar self-conscious?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a confident smirk and a cocky expression. I looked at him for a moment. His voice had that edge to it - the one that made it obvious that he couldn't care in the least. It was the opposite of sympathy, it was almost mocking.
My stomach was twisting in strange ways, and for a moment I truly thought I was going to throw up when I made my decision. It took a moment before I was sure I was in control, but once I moved I had the satisfaction of seeing his smug, teasing expression slip soundlessly into one of shock.
