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Apr. 23rd, 2006 01:50 am[ooc: just after this this]
Somehow, she makes it up to her room without being seen. She can only hope her luck continues to hold on that front.
She goes into the bathroom and strips, dumping the clothes in the sink. Another shirt ruined; the pants are again mostly dirty, with a few bloodstains--easy enough to clean, dish soap and some warm water.
She turns the shower on warm, adjusting the nozzle until she gets a harsh stream of water. She has to clear the impacted dirt somehow. She's not asking for help.
The wound burns like hell and she grits her teeth against it. She scrubs at what of it she can reach, then turns her attention to her shoulder wound. Periodically, she steps out of the shower stall to check her back in the mirror, twisting her head over her shoulder to look. Then she gets back in, scrubbing ineffectually at dirt she cannot reach. This process repeats several times.
Eventually, the wound is clean--though now oozing blood somewhat from the attention and the water pressure. She steps out, toweling her hair dry, then slings the towel around her waist in a makeshift skirt before going to have a seat on her bed.
She props her elbows on her knees, then clutches her head in her hands.
What are you playing at? You go to him again and he might kill you, deals be damned.
I don't think he would. He...he likes me.
And that makes it better how? You know what Gorlim gave up for you--is giving up for you--so that he wouldn't touch you and now you go and--
"SHUT UP!"
She springs to her feet, glaring around the room, expression falling when she realizes what she's done.
She knows she isn't right mentally, and she's secretly a little proud of it, but to lose so much time like before, to forget--
"'M not gonna lose it again. I'm not."
The room says nothing back to her denial. She goes back into the bathroom and starts looking for her largest roll of bandages.
Somehow, she makes it up to her room without being seen. She can only hope her luck continues to hold on that front.
She goes into the bathroom and strips, dumping the clothes in the sink. Another shirt ruined; the pants are again mostly dirty, with a few bloodstains--easy enough to clean, dish soap and some warm water.
She turns the shower on warm, adjusting the nozzle until she gets a harsh stream of water. She has to clear the impacted dirt somehow. She's not asking for help.
The wound burns like hell and she grits her teeth against it. She scrubs at what of it she can reach, then turns her attention to her shoulder wound. Periodically, she steps out of the shower stall to check her back in the mirror, twisting her head over her shoulder to look. Then she gets back in, scrubbing ineffectually at dirt she cannot reach. This process repeats several times.
Eventually, the wound is clean--though now oozing blood somewhat from the attention and the water pressure. She steps out, toweling her hair dry, then slings the towel around her waist in a makeshift skirt before going to have a seat on her bed.
She props her elbows on her knees, then clutches her head in her hands.
What are you playing at? You go to him again and he might kill you, deals be damned.
I don't think he would. He...he likes me.
And that makes it better how? You know what Gorlim gave up for you--is giving up for you--so that he wouldn't touch you and now you go and--
"SHUT UP!"
She springs to her feet, glaring around the room, expression falling when she realizes what she's done.
She knows she isn't right mentally, and she's secretly a little proud of it, but to lose so much time like before, to forget--
"'M not gonna lose it again. I'm not."
The room says nothing back to her denial. She goes back into the bathroom and starts looking for her largest roll of bandages.
