Weather Bound

Chapter Four

The rest of the night was uneventful, upon his remark, I'd gone straight to my room to eat my dinner. Of course I was curious and I refused to be scared, I just. . . I wondered if they'd let a mental patient take me away- was any of this even true? How could it be? What on earth could survive without food? But that thought only led me to wonder what he ate and where he came from, maybe he would eat me. Is that his plan? To trick me into trusting him just for this to go down in history as the updated version of Hansel and Gretal? Oh, fuck me, maybe I was scared. I was scared of myself and that I couldn't deny I still wanted him, I was even more scared that a part of me believed him. I felt as if every time I didn't make a friend or every time I rubbed people the wrong way, this was why. I'm different, I hated it. It didn't help that when I woke up at around six a.m and took my bandage off to check the wound, only to be met with perfectly clear, unmarked skin.

What am I going to do? I wondered.

I'd gone to bed restless, wanting to masturbate again but refusing to let myself in fear it'd end up like the last time. Who I'd thought of, that made me so pent up with arousal I'd came the quickest in my life. I laid awake until about three a.m., staring at the ceiling and I'd noticed it had some kind of swirling pattern in it, reminding me of how clouds can look just before a tornado hit. When I did manage to doze off, I dreamed of my parents except their faces were blank. They didn't say anything, and before I could even tell where I was or what was happening I'd wake up again, thunder booming.

When the sun rose around eight am, the storm was over, and I felt hungover. I went straight for a shower, only stopping by the linen closet to grab what I needed. Along with towels and sheets, it was fully stalked with anything anyone could need in bathroom utensils and it reminded me slightly of the locker room back at the orphanage except everything had a fancy hotel feeling to it. I didn't feel forced, and it helped that it didn't have instructions on how to 'properly' bathe yourself.

I turned the water to hot and started stripping. I washed quickly, only pausing to close my eyes and let the water loosen my muscles. It was when I wrapped one of my towels around me as I stepped out that I remembered Luke said we'd be going to the beach today.

Anxiety washed over me as I grabbed the other smaller towel and wrapped my hair with it, then brushed my teeth. I went back to the closet, first, putting back the soap and toothpaste I'd used, then grabbing one of the expensive looking razors from it's pack, along with a can of feminine shaving cream and deodorant. Back in the bathroom, I went slowly, filling up the sink with water to clean my razor while I shaved my legs, bikini line, and under arms. I felt odd doing it, until now, I'd only done it because when it'd gotten to a certain length, it'd get itchy. But right now? I felt insecure and didn't want to look ugly.

These feelings also irritated me, and my brain kept trying to rationalize with my heart. Once I finished shaving, I took my hair out of the towel and brushed it out, leaving it to air dry before going to the window that led to the balcony. I opened it more easily than I did the last time and leaned out with my hands on the windowsill. It was a perfect blue sky, no clouds in sight and sun shining down on the water, a warm breeze caressed my cheeks but there was no telling how warm the water was. That didn't matter to me, though. I was a good swimmer, but I didn't want to feel like I was getting washed away and I've never swam in open water. Just to be on the beach and go to the beach was enough for me, and through the anxiety, I felt excitement.

Ducking back inside, I shut the window and turned to my dresser, pulling out my only pair of loose mid-thigh shorts and baggy white shirt. After I got dressed, I tied the extra length of the shirt in a knot behind my back, leaving it loose enough to not feel tight. By the time I was done and had my dirty clothes put away in the small basket on the floor of the linen closet, it was around nine thirty and my stomach was growling- not liking the fact that I'd skipped breakfast the day before.