AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But getting there?
Trent is right. I do need a chair. I also don’t want to admit he’s right, nor wake him up.
I place my good foot on the floor. With all my strength, I hobble to the bathroom, keeping pressure off the bad foot. When I reach the toilet, I sit down on the closed lid and unstrap the boot I’m wearing. I place it to the side, remove the arm brace, and strip off my clothes.
I’m slightly winded from hobbling, but it wasn’t impossible. Definitely doable. And something I can repeat again. But my ribs ache, and I wonder if I’m straining myself by doing too much.
But it’s a shower.
I can’t exactly ask for help.
I open the shower’s glass door, grasp the handle on the wall to steady myself, and turn the water on, stepping under it.
There’s nothing like getting washed clean after days without. It beats taking off your bra after a long day. A midnight taco run. Acing a test. I groan out in bliss, ridding myself of the past few days.
The water is a bit warm for my normal liking. Actually, it’s scalding hot and probably burning my insides alive. But it wipes away the grime and all the disgustingness of what happened.
I try to lather my hair up with my bad hand once while my good hand stays occupied holding the shower handle. I fail, of course, suds running into my eyes. They burn. I blink fast, shoving the water over my face.
Dammit. This is more difficult than I wanted it to be.
I grasp the outside of the shower door, trying to find a washcloth, but I lose my footing. Luckily, there’s a shower bench. I grunt as soon as my butt makes contact with the hard marble.
I steady myself on it before I fall, but it’s inclined downward and not large enough for me to sit on for long.
Who built this thing so it would only fit a foot and not a butt?
I would be lying if I said that showering while standing didn’t hurt like a sonofabitch. My ribs begin to burn from the pain. At least I didn’t fall again.
I need to get out of here as soon as possible.
This isn’t a smart idea.
As I wash the soap out of my eyes, the door to the bathroom swings open.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Trent hollers.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I respond, trying desperately to cover my exposed body with my bad hand while trying not to let go of the handle with my good one.
“What are you doing taking a shower?”
I shrug. Or try to. My hands are otherwise occupied. “It’s my bathroom, and I felt gross.”
He stalks toward me. “You can’t take a shower by yourself.”
“And what am I supposed to do when I wake up like yucky?”
“Let me set you up in my bathroom.”
He’s fuming, his shoulders rising and falling with the ragged intake of oxygen. I turn off the water, planning my escape. The air is cold. It elicits a shiver. I’m still naked in front of him, and it must hit him because his eyes go wide.
Then his gaze dips down.
Not that it’s something he hasn’t seen before, but goose bumps rise along my arm.
“Stop right there, buddy,” I scold. “Hand me a towel.”
He crosses his arms. “I’ll hand you a towel if you agree to let me carry you back to my room.”
