Page 27 of The Addict

I observed Noah gathering some items from his mom: towels, clothes, soaps. He turned, meeting my glance with a shy smile. He crossed the room with the products in hand.

My heart skipped with each step he took towards me.

“These are for you,” he said softly, handing me the items.

I said nothing, only nodded.

“Here, I’m sorry. Let me show you how everything works here.” Noah gestured to the bathroom door, leading me inside.

When I entered the bathroom, I’m sure my mouth hit the floor. The marble tile stretched back at least fifteen feet before greeting a full-on waterfall shower with a near sectional inside of it for sitting. The shower opened from both ends, with walls of cabinets on either side and a massive walk-in closet.

Noah set the fresh towels and clothes down near the sink countertops, and Mrs. Hansen made a joke about how the clothes probably wouldn’t fit me right, since they were her old ones.

“Let us know if you need anything dear,” Mrs. Hansen chirped before floating out of the bathroom and leaving the guest bedroom entirely.

I stood there dumbfounded. Suddenly, I felt extremely small in this room.

“The buttons are labeled, you don’t have to turn a knob or anything,” Noah said abruptly, filling the silence around us. “My friend Alex always got a kick out of that. I guess in normal showers you gotta turn a dial for cold or hot, or some shit like that.”

I blinked at him. “Normal showers?”

Noah rubbed the back of his head. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. I hear it… often. That I have rich shit, er– stuff, in my house.”

I crossed the room slowly, approaching the large glass wall encasing the shower. My silhouette crossed in front of a massive vanity with a floor length mirror. I paused. Turned.

There was a stranger I didn’t recognize, looking back at me.

I studied her, that girl in the glass. Fragile. An oversized shirt hugging splotched skin. Pale features sunken in except for the partially swollen face and eye. Ghosts of unwanted hands still lingering across her body.

I shred the borrowed covering, letting it drop to the tile, and trailed my hands across the dark marks on my arms and shoulders, all the way down to the spot on my waist where Silas had placed the knife against my skin. Even though he hadn’t cut me, the skin there burned. The layers of my fight started to surface. Every aspect of my body ached and trembled, even my arms and legs.

There was an audible shift in the air.

My eyes drifted from my own reflection in the mirror, then to Noah, still standing behind me. His mouth was slightly parted, his eyes traveling down the length of my body and back up again. Our eyes locked through the mirror, me watching him, watching me. We stayed like that for a few moments.

I wasn’t embarrassed. He saw this much of me already, whether I liked it or not.

Noah cleared his throat and averted his gaze. His eyes furiously studied the tile floor.

“Uh… sorry,” he mumbled. He doubled back towards the shower, keeping his head pointed low to the ground. He slid the shower door open with ease and turned on the water. The sound and steam quickly filled the quiet of the room. He stood there for a moment, feeling the temperature of the water, then awkwardly backed up without turning his head.

“I’ll let you shower,” he stated, passing me and the mirror as he hurried towards the door.

Heaviness began to gather at the corners of my eyes.

“Noah?”

His stride halted.

“I don’t want to be here by myself. Could you just wait in here until I’m done?”

I listened closely, hearing him take a shallow breath.

“Yeah, of course. I can just sit over there.” Noah’s hand pointed to where I was currently stationed, the vanity area next to the mirror, which had some sitting room.

I swallowed, and went the remaining distance to the shower, slipping out of my panties and stepping in under the hot stream. I gently closed the glass partition and submerged myself. The feeling was indescribable, the pressure from the water alleviated tension in my shoulders and neck that I hadn’t realized was there. I reached for the shampoo, relishing the scent, thankful to rid myself of the “essence of dumpster” that I knew had followed me here. As I scrubbed the roots, violently, I watched with interest out of the steam clouded glass at Noah. He sat, back to me, at the vanity as promised, a mere few feet from where I was. His arm seemed ridged across the counter, and his foot tapped against the floor.

I didn’t know what had gotten into me. Maybe it was the shower. The fact that none of this night even felt like a real part of my existence. But I wanted to know more.