The whole Carmen thing, his saying he still wants us, his kissing me outside, Sierra, the doctor… the future. It’s all too big for me to handle, or think about, and my brain is scared that letting him leave will open a damn in my brain I have no energy to deal with.? He already has me teetering on emotional break down with tears threatening to push out.
“The middle cupboard has everything you need. I wasn’t about to leave any part of you behind because I wasn’t going to rest until we found you. Sweet dreams, baby.” What he says confuses me enough to distract me completely; screwing my face up in confusion and as he walks out the door. Too focused on discovery and already climbing off the bed to open the center oversized wooden cabinet to see what he meant by that.
Much to my shock, every single belonging I left in my room in the manor is in here, folded neatly, stacked up, and waiting for me to reclaim it. From clothing, to shoes, to my boxes of sentimental items, and keepsakes. All has its place and fits neatly in here, taking over an entire cupboard in Colton’s room.
A lump forms in my throat that almost chokes me half to death, and tears sting my eyes with venom, so that I know I won’t be able to hold them back for long. My emotions take a sudden nosedive, and I cough on a sob trying to escape my throat. My hands tremble as I reach out and touch the first of my sweaters, my legs turning to Jell-O and a wave of lightheadedness because of my extreme reaction to something so basic.
I don’t know why this gets to me so badly, but it does. The fact he took the time to pack up everything that was mine, so carefully, and brought it when they all left the manor together. Sure they were limited in time to pack, considering they were leaving under hostile terms and had to get out, yet he made sure he left nothing of me in that place. It’s all here. Every single little thing that I never knew I missed until now. All clean, and pressed, and set in here in almost military precision. He took care of my things in the hopes he would bring me back here one day.
I try and not to ponder on it, to push it out of my head and focus on a task of doing, instead of thinking. It’s all I can do if I don’t want to succumb to these overwhelming feelings, and all the questions about Carmen, about us. Starting to doubt myself and what I felt in the forest, but there’s nothing else to explain what that was. It had to be him marking her or betraying our bond in another way. Nothing can compare to the level of pain, and heartbreak, and betrayal I felt, and I should remind myself of that and not get lost in him as he tries to win me round. I need to stay true to the fact and ignore how much I still love him. How every sense, and fiber in my soul, aches to be reunited with him in even the smallest ways.
I inhale heavily to self-calm and level myself out, shake my head and give myself an internal rattle to snap out of this. I haul out an oversized night shirt that Meadow gifted me in the manor, my all-time favorite, and underwear, and quickly strip, loving the feel of fitted soft delicate lingerie and an actual cozy and loose t-shirt, printed with delicate pastel florals, over grey sweats any day. It’s the little things that can restore you in weird ways.
I yank out my toiletries bag and find my hairbrush, facial wipes, and all manner of self-grooming products I left behind, as they were too heavy to lug around, and start to put myself to rights. There’s a mirror over the mantle and it’s only now I can see how grubby and scruffy I look and decide to quickly remedy it. I look like a hobo who hasn’t seen water in weeks, and my hair is a dull brown because it’s so dirty.
Meadow was right though; I do look different. My hair is longer, my face slimmer, and I seem to have aged a little in my time in the wilds. My green eyes seem brighter, the color more intense. My skin tanned gently from being outside all the time, and I have a natural rosy glow to my cheeks, nose, and forehead, that have brought out a few light freckles. I seem taller, but I think it’s because I stand differently now. Upright, almost proud, and the small amount of growth my hair has had, makes all the difference. Even dirty, the layers are softer and hang around my face and past my shoulders in a much more flattering style than how the orphanage used to cut it. I like this look, and I might just let it grow out fully.
I clean my skin, brush out my tugs as best I can and find all manner of debris and twigs in the knots. I feel grubby now I have clean pastel clothes against my skin and try and make myself presentable while contemplating linking Colton to ask if he has a bathtub close by. Although it’s late, and I am tired so maybe I should just clean myself up, sleep, and worry about bathing in the morning.
It feels good to have the ability to cleanse some of the grime off with wipes and I look around for a means to brush my teeth, as that in itself will make a huge difference to how gross I feel.? I wander around looking for a water jug, or something I could use, and stumble upon a door I previously missed because it’s stained the exact color of the wood around it. A small door in the corner, next to the desk, that was almost completely concealed, tucked in and narrow, right at the side of the last cupboard, that I open in hopes of finding something useful. To my delight it slides open behind the wardrobe to reveal a tiny bathroom.
There’s a shower that looks newly installed, with an array of toiletries in a basket sat within, some towels hanging at the side, and a fluffy mat on the floor that hints this is where he gets ready most days. The smell of sealant and paint are faint in the air, as though this was a recent conversion, and I guess that makes sense if Colton had this room repurposed. He can get up, shower, and get ready here without having to go find an available bathroom. There’s a small wash basin, and toilet, fitted into the space snugly, but not so much that it’s crammed and I strip back off without hesitation, the urge to jump right in, desire overtaking tiredness with a need to be clean and hygienic once more.
The outside living is great when you’re outside, but once you’re back among people, and cleanliness, it really does make you feel all kinds of yuck. This right now, as I slide under hot water from powerful jets, is as close to heaven as I’ve been in a while. I close my eyes and tilt my face up at the jet, and let it wash over, cascading all my worries and aches away with the kind of goodness only a hot shower can bring.
Hot water, soap, shampoo. It all feels amazing to be back in civilization with real home comforts. No more river washes or using stones to scrub my clothes, and plain water to brush my teeth that always had a faint tint of fishiness to it. I can lie to myself every day and say that I was doing great out there and would happily have existed that way for an eternity, but one shower and it unravels all of it. The bed calling to me, soft sheets, and springy mattresses, and being able to walk barefoot on soft carpeted surfaces and not having to choke half to death on fire smoke to get any kind of lights in the dark. I was never built to be truly off grid, and isolated, and being back here highlights all of it.
I spend a good forty-five minutes scrubbing every single little inch of me and lathering up the shower products deliciously. They smell like Colton, but I don’t mind it at all. It’s comforting, familiar, much like his presence always is. He always smells good; citrus fresh, with subtle undertones of musk, a luring heady scent that ignites so many memories of being close to him at just smelling his products. On me it’s maybe a little masculine, but it’s better than woodland damp, and stale river water. It makes me feel human again, although it does kill any urge to sleep, and revives my energy levels which maybe I shouldn’t have done.
I brush my teeth when I get out, oddly obsessed with peppermint toothpaste now I get to use it again and redo my teeth four times just because I can. Running my tongue over shiny smooth enamel and the breathy fresh taste when I inhale. I brush out my damp hair after I rub it almost dry with the soft towels hanging nearby, and cover my body head to foot in the lotion from my bag that smells like tropical fruit, in a bid to smell female again. It does a great job of blending with Colton’s scents and I end up sort of pineapple tinted and smelling rather edible. I redress in my underwear and night dress quickly, and revel in how good clean feels. There’s no comparison to this kind of sensation.
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