Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 23: Rewind

My hands shake as I rub at them with hot water in the shower. I try not to think about it, but I desperately want to scrub at them with my old lye soap. Even now, they still feel too dirty. Everything feels too dirty. I take a deep breath before I turn off the stream of water coming from the shower head.

You are not dirty, I tell myself sternly, you are clean. You are not dirty. You are clean. You do not need to be hurting to be alive.

This time, I almost believe it. But then I release the breath, and the urge to scrub at my skin with a wire brush returns. I hunch my shoulders and grip my hands tightly to my chest, protecting myself.

This is one of the harder parts of the day. Sometimes, I can almost forget the burning that runs under my skin, but not when I'm supposed to be cleaning myself, when habit is screaming at me from inside of my bones. But it is much, much worse to avoid it.

I pull the shower curtain away more violently than I mean to. I glare at my reflection in the fogginess of the mirror.

Before I put on my shirt, I chance a glance into a patch of the mirror that is almost back to clear. I expect the disappointment, but it still stings.

I had hoped that, just maybe, Orion's blood would have washed away the map of scars on my back. As I crane my neck over my shoulder, it's very obvious that the haphazard splotches are still very visible on my back. It looks a bit like the skin of Dalmatian.

I keep my eyes trained firmly on the counter. I can't think about this with what I'm about to do.

I would give in. Maybe Orion already hated me. Maybe he's only been doing any of this out of obligation. I'm banking on the slim chance that he would really want me.

He could have me. It seems a fair trade; we would be able to skip the years of fighting that preluding Mom's surrender to Dad. I would make it easy for him. In exchange, he would take care of Lucy. I'm not able to get away from all of this - but with some legs, Lucy might.

I don't allow myself to feel sad for the life I'm giving up. This isn't the time for self-pity. I had imagined Lucy and I, together in some tiny apartment, no mates and nothing to be afraid of. When I sigh, I breathe out that dream. I can feel it disconnect itself from my lungs, disassociating from the nerves in my fingertips. The death of a dream.

It's a sensation I'm familiar with.

When I look at the mirror again, I try for a smile, one that says, hey, I know I've been acting really distant, but now I'm flirtatious and desirable. It looks more like a wince.

Orion has continued keeping his distance, which makes it even harder. The idea of approaching him turns my stomach into a hurricane of nerves. But, as two more days pass without any happenstance meeting between us, I force myself to make a real plan.

Orion obviously doesn't want people to know I'm his mate. Chances are, he's been waiting for a chance to throw me out. I need to find someplace to talk to him privately. His office, where I think he must spend all his time, would definitely not work - there's sure to be some sort of secretary, or something, that I would have to go through. It doesn't take long for me to come to the conclusion that his room is the only viable option. The last time I was in there lead to such a catastrophe that the very idea of entering it again makes my healed leg twinge.

I wait until later that night. Sometimes, I can hear his feet padding carefully by my room on his way to his own, and it is always long after I should be sleeping. I just need to catch him right after he gets to his room and before he falls asleep. When I hear a heartbeat, walking down the hall towards his room, anxiety sweeps through my chest.