Page 728 of Coal Hearts

Fuck!

Turning on my heel, I studied the suite. With sandstone-coloured wallpaper and curtains, black carpets and bedding, the room seemed regal as well as oppressive. Larger than my old quarters, I guessed—judging by how many floors we’d climbed and general location—this might be on the level beneath Victor’s residence.

High enough to do some serious damage if I leaped out the window.

Too high to be able to escape intact.

Stepping toward the bathroom to the left, I tripped over the threshold as my gaze caught mine in the copper-gilded mirror.

Jesus.

Drifting forward, I grabbed the basin and stared.

I didn’t recognise the man staring back.

Shaggy hair, thick beard, grey sprigs that hadn’t been there before, a few sores from sleeping on bare plywood with only a scratchy woollen blanket for protection, and an aura of despairing death.

My eyes were flat and dull. My nose had healed from being broken in the fight but remained slightly crooked. My cheekbones almost cut through my skin, and my cheeks which had always been hollow, now seemed especially gaunt.

I dropped my stare to my tattered black shirt and slacks. Every inch of exposed skin almost matched the material in colouring. I wore layers of grime and filth, dried blood and dirt.

“I don’t hear that shower running!” the guard shouted from the door.

Ignoring him, I reached for the tap and turned it on.

The sight of running clean water had my thirst leaping for joy. The stale rations in our water buckets had never been enough.

Dipping my head, I drank straight from the stream, sucking down mouthfuls of cool, delicious freshness until my hunger didn’t ache quite so badly.

Only once my dehydration was quenched did I stagger to the shower, fumble at my gross clothes, and strip.

My ankle and wrist casts caught on the filthy material.

The warnings not to get them wet echoing from a previous life.

But I didn’t care.

I didn’t bathe because they’d told me to.

I did it because I had to.

I couldn’t wear this stench anymore. This reminder that I’d lost that night in the cave. This constant appearance of a broken man.

I groaned in sheer ecstasy as hot water rained over me.

My balance failed as I tipped my face into the cascade, sending me careening into the black-tiled wall. Doing my best to fight through the vertigo, I pumped copious amounts of body wash into my palm and inhaled the subtle fragrance of summer and lavender.

And then I tuned everything out and washed.

I didn’t focus on what this meant.

Didn’t fear why Victor had separated us and given us a Master’s chamber to prepare in.

Didn’t worry that the cleaner I was, the more enticing I would be to anyone who wanted to touch me.

I scrubbed for me.

I rinsed away the past for me.