The Calling | The House of Voices #1

Twenty Seven - Steam

Steam

I closed the door behind me softly, pulling the deadbolt into place.

The Solitary Wing’s unisex bathroom wasn’t all that different from the bathrooms back in the patient wing. With its white tile walls and equally white walls, the bathroom looked no different than Parish’s and my assigned prison rooms. What was with this wing and all the white anyway?

Sighing at the lack of color, I hung the bag of bathroom stuff that Patty had retrieved from my room on a hook in the wall and tied my hair in a loose bun at the top of my head. After brushing my teeth and scrubbing my face, I decided to take a peek at the damage the Voices had caused last night. I took off my sweater and hung it on another hook, scrutinizing the scratch marks on my shoulders.

They didn’t hurt as much as they should have; something which I was immeasurably thankful for. The wounds were deep and wide; irritated and red but only stung when I dabbed them with water. Stripping off my clothes, I decided to tend to my wounds after I’d washed, and stepped into the shower.

The blast of hot water on my skin felt almost magical. After two days of self-mutilation and voice inflicted wounds; it was the first physical sensation that hadn’t given me pain. And I welcomed it. I don’t know how long I stood there, unmoving, except that when I finally realized it was time to move, my hair was already soaked through.

I washed and shampooed my hair, scrubbing until the scent of my coconut shampoo became impossibly overwhelming. Pouting slightly, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower cubicle. I wrapped one of the towels Patty had given me around my body, and the other one around my head as I slowly padded over to the sink.

Mentally crossing my fingers, I opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink. I smiled when I saw a zip-bag of cotton balls and a bottle of a copper colored medicine that the nurses used on Sid once when he’d got a paper cut. I grabbed the bottle and pressed a cotton ball onto its mouth, tilting it over slightly until a little of the liquid spilled out onto the cotton. I grit my teeth against the sharp sting of the medicine on my wounds, applying adequate pressure onto the cuts. After a few more presses, the stings started to ebb. I screw the lid of the bottle back on and put it in the medicine cabinet, pulling out a small tube of antibiotic cream. Once I finished rub a little of the cold cream onto my cuts, I replaced it back in the cabinet and rooted around for a few bandages.

I found an almost-finished roll of adhesive bandages, along with a small piece of gauze, and was about to use it when I suddenly remembered Parish. I hadn’t seen his wounds so I didn’t know how bad they were. There was a possibility that they were superficial ones, like mine; but there was also a possibility that they were worse than he was letting on. I glanced down at the tape and the gauze before putting them back.

I then turned to see what clothes Kara had sent me through Patty. The underwear, I discovered, was a matching pink set I’d never worn before. My mom had bought it for me just before I came to the Institute, and I’d never seen occasion to wear it. But, since I couldn’t very well send it back, I decided that now was a good time to try them. They fit; thank God. She’d also managed to find the peach shirt and my jeans. The sleeves of the shirt reached up to my wrists, nicely covering my healing, self-inflicted wounds, which is exactly why I’d asked for it.

Only once I was done dressing did I think about how I was going to dispose of the cotton balls I’d used. I sat on the closed seat of the toilet thinking hard. If I just left them in the little bin under the sink, Patty would see them and inform one of the doctors. I could easily flush them down the toilet, since I’d only used two, and then my problem would be solved. But what about Parish? If he had deeper, messier wounds to clean up, there was no way he’d be able to flush them without clogging up the pipe.  I glanced at the little bin once more, and an idea began to form in my head.

I ran over to the toilet door and opened it up. Just like I’d predicted, Patty was standing right outside the door waiting for me. “All done?” She asked before I’d even poked my head out.

“Not quite.” I replied. “I think I’m actually going to need…” I glanced around the room. “A sanitary…” I stopped, unable to continue. “you know.” I shot her a meaningful look.

“Oh.” She nodded, understanding. “Yes, yes. I’ll bring you one right away.”

She was hobbling off before she’d even finished speaking. Grinning, I pulled my head back into the bathroom and walked over to the mirror, where the steam from my shower was start beginning to condense.

I’d just finished writing my message to Parish when Patty knocked at the door. I opened it, snatched the package and shut the door quickly.

I emerged from the bathroom a minute later, allowing her to escort me back to the room, praying that Parish liked hot showers the whole way back.