Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Eighty-Six

    Bri coughed. "Umm...what, bitch?"

    "There's a lot that goes into that decision," Mia said tiredly. "I don't even have the energy to talk about it, but honestly I'd prefer to stay busy to help keep my mind off of what happened."

    "I guess I can understand that," Bri said slowly. "But a little bit of travel wouldn't keep me from spending time with my best friend. I know that you have Drake there and everything, but...you need your friends. So...let me just talk to Shawn and Desi, and try to see what I can work out. Okay?"

    "Okay," Mia said.

    The baby in the background wailed again. "I don't want to let you off of the phone," Bri said, sounding distressed.

    "It's okay...I need to get to bed anyway," Mia told her, full well knowing that she wasn't going to sleep any time soon.

    "You've been through a lot, Mia - how are you feeling?" Desirae piped up.

    "I'm fine," Mia said.

    "Word to Mia: All women know that 'fine' is a code word for the exact opposite!" Bri called, and her voice sounded a lot more distant. She may have been tending to the baby, while Desirae took over phone duties. "Don't insult my intelligence!"

    Mia laughed. "I'm okay, guys. Or I will be. Don't worry about me."

    "I'd be the shittiest friend in the world if I didn't worry about you," Bri declared. "I'll check in with you tomorrow. Try to get some rest."

    "I'll check in with you too," Desirae chimed in.

    "Thanks, Bri. Thanks Desi. I miss you guys." After hanging up, Mia dropped her phone on the couch and paced the length of the living room. She was no longer curious about what the press was saying about her and Drake, since her friends had given some insight into that.

    She padded down the hall and walked into the hall bathroom. Quick to flip on the light switch, she grabbed the door handle. She stood, staring out into the hall with her hand on the door handle. Close the door, Mia. You can do it. Loosening her grip on the door handle, she started to close the door. But her heart started pounding in her chest and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She yanked the door back open and only then did she feel comfortable enough to pull her shorts down and sit on the toilet.

    Keeping the door open didn't prevent the visuals of Trevor storming into the bathroom and snatching her off of the toilet. It didn't prevent fear from rising up within her. He was dead and still had the power to fill her with paralyzing fear.

    She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head so that the doorway was no longer in her line of sight. Her eyes landed on the guest shower. She looked down at herself while making use of the toilet. Although she'd cleaned up before changing, her skin still felt dirty. It still felt like she had Trevor's dirt and grime on her skin. I have to get it off, she thought, trembling on top of the padded toilet seat cover. I have to get the dirt off. I still feel like Trevor's touching me, and it's because I still have him on me. His sweat, his skin cells. I have to get them off. Once the thought occurred to her, she couldn't shake it. If I can just...wash every trace of him off of me, maybe I'll be able to get some sleep. Maybe I'll be okay, then.

                                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Drake rolled over in bed and stretched out a bare arm. He expected his arm to come into contact with a body - Mia's body, to be exact. His arm came into contact with nothing but bed sheets and pillow. With a frown, he raised his head. The master bathroom door was open and it was dark inside. He scrambled to sit up.

    There was the faintest sound of crying.

    He got out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he left the bedroom. The hall and living room lights were off, but the hall bathroom door was open and light flooded out into the hallway. The sound of shower water carried out into the hall, accompanied by the sound of sobbing. He poked his head inside of the bathroom.

    Steam filled the room. It billowed out over the top of the shower stall and covered nearly every inch of the bathroom. The steam was so thick, he could barely make out the shape of the shower stall on the opposite wall.

    "Mia?" he called into the bathroom.

    The crying stopped abruptly.

    He walked into the bathroom. Moving through the mist, he called out again, "Mia?"

    "You don't have to come in here," she called to him. It was evident that she was trying to sound like nothing was wrong, as if she hadn't just been crying moments before.

    When he reached the shower, he pulled open the shower door.

    Mia wasn't standing in the shower; she was seated in the shower with her knees pulled up to her chest, soaking wet hair hanging down her shoulders. Tears mingled with streams of the shower water pouring on her. Her skin was red, most likely from the heat of the water.

    Out of curiosity, he reached in one hand and held it beneath the shower water. Cursing under his breath, he drew his hand back after feeling just how hot the water was. It was near-scalding. He leaned into the shower and cut off the water.

    Mia stared up at him, looking helpless and vulnerable. "I didn't want you to see me like this. I was trying to be strong for you."

    "Is that why you're in the guest shower instead of the master?"

    "I didn't want the shower water to wake you up." Her bottom lip trembled, and more tears spilled from eyes that were filled with even more tears.

    He bent down and scooped her up. On the way out of the bathroom, he grabbed one of the large bath towels. "You don't have to put on fronts for me. If you're hurting, I need to know that."

    She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close. "It felt like I still had his dirt and his grime on me. I thought that if I could make sure I washed it off, I would be okay. I'd be able to sleep."

    "Oh, baby," he said sympathetically, stroking her wet hair. "I'll make sure you get some sleep. I'm so sorry for letting him put a finger on you. I should have known better. As soon as I saw him, we should have left."

    "It's not your fault," she said, her voice muffled because her face was nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

    As he gently set her on the bed in the master bedroom, he thought, I wish I could kill Trevor a million times for what he's done to my baby girl. With dark thoughts racing through his mind, he dried her off with the towel. Then he draped the towel over the back of the desk chair and sat in bed beside her. He held her close and stroked her hair until she fell into a restless sleep. It wasn't long before he, himself drifted asleep. Sleep, however, didn't quiet his dark thoughts.