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Fuck, I wish it was all happening to someone else.
“Go clean your girl, then we can discuss business.”
Gunner nods. “Got it. See you then.”
While being dragged out of the room, I hear the Prez instruct Noose and Cat to gather the Reapers from other safe houses for church in a couple of hours.
Gunner doesn’t speak as he pulls me into the bathroom and starts running the shower. And when he reaches for my clothes, I avert my gaze. I want to fight him. Shout, scream, kick, and claw him until he leaves me alone, but I don’t. I just stand there like a fucking statue.
“Lift your arms above your head, Sugar,” he rasps.
A shudder is the only outward sign I’m struggling, yet I still do what he says.
“I know this is a big shock, and I promise I’ll explain everything once you’re clean.” Even though he almost whispers, he might as well have been shouting for the way I jump in surprise.
“Y-you w-will?” I stammer.
“Later,” he vows. “For now, let’s get you clean. Step into the shower while the water’s hot, Sugar.”
Likea robot, I obey his command and walk under the hot spray of the rusty showerhead. Although it’s the fourth or fifth shower I’ve had since being here, it’s the first that isn’t ice cold. The water is even clean, not the disgusting brown substance I’ve come to expect.
Gunner holds out a bottle of shampoo, and when he squirts the coconut-smelling goodness into my palms, I almost cry with relief. It’s the smallest thing, but it means so much more than I can explain.
“Thank you,” I sob as I massage it into my roots. Fuck, I lather my long strands in the suds, desperate to smell of something other than the decay this house reeks of. “Thank you so much.”
He chuckles softly. “You’re very welcome, Sugar. Want some conditioner as well?”
“Y-yes, please.”
I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional over hair products, and if I cared to examine it further, I’m sure there’s another reason. But I can’t do that, I refuse to. I’m afraid that if I look too deep into the recesses of my mind, the things I’ve seen and heard will swallow me whole.
When my fingers are pruned and the water turns cold, I turn it off and willingly step into the clean towel Gunner’s holding. I let him wrap it around me while rubbing my arms dry. I even let him run another towel up my legs, drying them in the process.
My mind screams at me to jerk away, to do anything other than let him touch me like this. As I try to move, nothing happens. I remain unmoving, forced to feel hands I don’t want caress my inner thigh.
“G-Gunner.” It doesn’t come out how I intended, instead of sounding angry, I sound breathy. “P-please.”
He looks up at me from where he’s crouched, and whatever he sees on my face makes him sigh. “You’re not ready yet, Sugar. I promised that you would be ready for me when it was time.”
At his words, I’m vaguely reminded of something he said at the Kings’ Fourth of July BBQ.
“I know you’re not ready for me yet, so I’ll wait.”
“You’ve been planning this for a long time, haven’t you?” I ask, as the words that made little sense at the time do now.
“I have,” he admits, sounding almost… proud. “It was never meant to be like this, though. But fucking Gray ruins everything.”
My heart skips a beat as Gunner mentions Gray. I want to ask if he’s really dead because I still don’t believe it. Though, I can’t deny the voice in the back of my head, the one that warns me not to mention Gray, is right.
Scared to say or do the wrong thing, I keep still. Even when Gunner stands up so abruptly a whimper makes its way past my lips, I don’t move a muscle.
“Let’s get you dressed,” Gunner says, softly.
I follow him back to the room I now assume is his—ours—and dress in the clothes he pulls out of his backpack. It’s not until I’m fully dressed in the washed out band tee and jeans that I realize who it belongs to.
“You’ve been to my house,” I gasp. “These are Leslie’s clothes.”
Gunner nods and puffs out his chest. “Your dresses are no good here, Sugar. This will help you fit in.”
