If memory serves me right, the bathroom is the first archway on my right. I slip inside, and instantly my eyes widen, and my heart starts pounding as I watch Chance slam his fist into Aaron’s face.
I stumble away from the violence, pressing my back to the wall.
Is it because Aaron didn’t try to help Ethan?
Aaron falls, and a dark-skinned man plants his foot against Aaron’s neck. “I’ll deal with you later, fucker. Get to work and earn your keep.”
The man turns his head, and his dark eyes lock on me. A tremor rakes through my body, and I can’t bring myself to move.
Oh crap. He must be Idris.
Aaron shoots to his feet and rushes out of the bathroom.
Slowly, Idris’ eyes sweep over my body, then he shakes his head. “Pathetic.”
The word slams into my heart that thumps harder against my ribs when he walks past me to leave the bathroom.
Geez, that doesn’t hurt at all.
Not able to look at Chance, I glance around the room and see a row of sinks lining the opposite wall.
I rush to the sink, and turning open the faucet, I scoop water into my hand and drink until I’ve quenched my thirst. I hear a door to my left open, and my head snaps toward the sound.
A man steps out of a shower, and my mouth dries again. He only has a towel around his waist.
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I look away as fast as possible without straining my neck.
“Someone lost their newbie,” he shouts out for all the world to hear, and it’s only then I realize Chance left.
The man chuckles at my visible embarrassment, then leaves. Letting out a relieved sigh, I glance at the mirrors above the sinks.
I look awful. My cheek’s bruised, and the bullet grazed my skin, leaving a tender red streak. I’m too pale, making the black, blue, and red bruises more visible. My hair is all over the place, looking like something exploded in it.
When I try to pat some of the strands down, I notice a tremble in my hands.
I need food.
My eyes travel down and stop on my arm. The sting I felt was another bullet that grazed my arm right above my elbow.
I was lucky. Ethan wasn’t.
I want to cry for him but know now is not the time or place.
Chance comes back in, dressed in a plain black shirt and blue jeans.
So, they do wear color.
He holds a pile out to me. “A towel and clothes. The shirt and pants are Raze’s. They should fit. Shower, then we’ll look at your arm and face.” He doesn’t say anything else and leaves again.
Grateful I’m allowed to clean myself, I walk to the showers, hoping afterward I can get something to eat.
Knowing at any moment, one of the men living here can walk into the bathroom, I hurry to clean myself and can’t enjoy the warm water washing away some of the stress. I do feel more human, though, as I get dressed.
The shirt fits like a second skin, and for the first time, I feel conscious about it showing the curves of my breasts. They might not be as big as other women’s, but no matter how I pull at the shirt, it still goes right back to clinging to me.
The pants aren’t much better, but they also clings to my body. It’s not that the clothes are uncomfortable, quite the opposite, they’re more comfortable than any I’ve ever worn. They just feels revealing.
I glance down and let out a self-conscious sigh when I see my cleavage peeking out from the top’s low neckline.
Hell, now there’s something I never expected to see. Under different circumstances, I’d be happy to look womanly. But with so many men in the ward, I worry.
I leave my damp hair untied, remembering Idris will freak out if I look too innocent.
I bundle my dirty clothes together and step out of the shower stall.
“Finished?” I jump with fright. Chance is leaning against the wall in the corner, his eyes closed.
“Yes, thank you.”
Letting out a sigh, he opens his eyes. “Dirty clothes go over there.” He gestures to a woven basket. “We take turns working in the kitchen, doing laundry, and tending to the animals and vegetables.”
I hurry, not wanting to waste his time. I throw my clothes into the laundry basket, thinking at least I get to keep them.
When I turn around, it’s to see Chance staring at me. His eyes drift over me, and my whole body flushes hot, not just my face.
He clears his throat. “How’s your arm?”
I glance down at the raw wound. “It’s just grazed. Nothing serious,” I answer. I try to smile but stop when it feels awkward.
Chance doesn’t say anything and pushes himself away from the wall. He walks to me, and I avoid his eyes.