Consideration for Scoundrels

THIRTEEN

Celeste didn't remember dying. But then again, she didn't remember being born either; but no one ever questioned the certainty of that. Others were there, others remembered, she was the living proof of the truth of the assertion of her own existence.

The aching in her bones struck her nerves like a match.

No...no this wasn't right. Dying hurt, maybe, probably. But death itself? One conciliation, one certainty, was that death didn't hurt. Death didn't feel like this...like anything. She hurt too much to be dead.

But still...there was a new certainty that hung around her neck like a stone. And when she finally awoke, it was to the steady glare of sunlight creeping through the slits in the blinds, she felt less like she was actively dying, though her head still ached and the motion of sitting upwards nearly sent her toppling back over.

Something tickled at the back of her mind, a whisper, a shadow. She shook her head, trying to clear it free of any thought besides not tossing up her supper.

Groaning softly, Celeste drew her knees to her chest and took a deep breath, trying to center herself around the dulled ache that persisted in the back of her eyes. Squinting, Celeste waved a hand in front of her face. "At least I can see." She muttered under her breath as she wriggling her fingers.

"Not dead." She told herself, nearly breathless with relief. "Not dead."

But death left behind a mark; and Celeste knew if she looked closely she would find it trailing somewhere across her skin.

Gingerly, she rolled her shoulders forward, then back, letting the aching joints pop in and out of place. For a moment she considered burrowing back beneath her sheets, ignoring the sun and sleeping until twilight crept its way back. It was only then she saw Selena, who lay just a few inches away, curled beside her on the bed like a cat. Without thinking twice, she reached down and moved aside the dark lock of hair that had fallen over Selena's face. In sleep the other girl's features had softened, as if the previous night's events were only a bad dream they had both shared. Something in Celeste's chest tightened; yes, surely she could lie here just a bit longer. A minute, a moment.

But as tempting as it was, she pushed back the covers and slipped quietly out in to the hall.

Fortunately, it seemed as if the house had already cleared out. She turned on the shower to let the water heat, grabbed fresh clothes from the bedroom and deposited her ruined shirt and trousers on the washroom floor before stepping inside the shower.

The water was warm, a soothing balm against her aching back and shoulders. Though she would have preferred it much hotter, Celeste shut her eyes and leaned forward until her head pressed against the shower wall. She tried to piece together what exactly had happened in the last few hours. God...had it only been a day? But every time she tried to sift through the contents of her own thoughts trying desperately to recall the events she had witnessed, she was barraged by foreign memories, flickering in and out of her minds eye faster than Celeste could grab hold of them.

She shivered. Reaching down, she tried to urge the taps further left, only to be met with firm resistance. Although it felt as if it split her skull to do so, she cracked one eye open. She'd already adjusted the taps as hot as the water would go. A veil of steam was building behind the curtain. Both eyes now open, she raised a hand, watching as thin tendrils of steam rose from the prickling flesh of her bare skin. She took the opportunity to survey her body; judging by the blood caked to her disregarded clothing, her skin shouldn't have been this intact, her bones unbroken. But there was nothing, not even a scratch. But she hadn't imagined it, the burning in her bones and pounding in her skull wasn't imagining it. That was real. The girl curled up asleep in her bed, that was real.