Sid-er-eus ~ Latin
Heavenly; Starry; Star-like
Stars are holes in the universe; the light of heaven coming from the other side.
Book Two in the Solivagant Series.
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"I love you"
"I love you too El. More then anything."
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The drive back to Dakota is silent. Running skint on funds the only real option the to skip the motel and pass through Bobby's. Yet, it results in me still crusted with blood laid on a towel in the back seat so nobody would catch sight of me through the windows. Particularly law enforcement. Despite the chilly November air both brothers cracked the window about fourteen hours in. At that point I closed my eyes and tried to keep my mind off my clothed stiff as cardboard, my hair matted with crusted blood, and the stench I know's going to linger in the car for a few weeks minimum.
Couple taps on the window and i squint against the sunlight pouring behind Dean's head, "We're here Richard Dees."
Scooting out of the car I don't wait for them. Hiking the back steps, I swing the door inwards to find Bobby hovering in the kitchen. His expression contorting upon me come barreling inside, he questions "Thought you were coming back from the West coast? Not the Overlook Hotel?" Dropping my hand from the door handle, I smack off Bobby's cap passing him by. Whilst his joke was quite funny I'm nowhere close to in the mood. I'm covered head to toe in the dried blood of more souls then I can count on my hand. It coats me so thickly i feel it every time I move my skin.
Slamming the bathroom door I catch a small glance in the mirror and immediately turn away. My hair, my brows, my face, neck, shoulders-I don't bother with the hot tap. I don't take a second to tear off my cardboard clothes. I don't care about shutting the curtin. All I care about is getting my body under the faucet. Cold icy water plummeting into my body with such a rush the chill immediately seizes my bones. Unravelling myself from my jacket, I tear off my shirt. Tossed outside the shower tub with a slap against the tiles followed quickly by my jeans and underwear.
Then, I scrub. I lather the sponge and I scrub against the dried blood so hard my skin is raw. My arms, my shoulders my torso, back, hip butt, thigh, legs, feet- I scrub it raw. So viciously I don't notice i'm crying until I hiccup into the cold stream crashing over my head. Reaching again for the body wash I go again, and again, and once more which still doesn't feel like enough to get the tight memory of their dried blood off my skin. Lathering my hands with shampoo I cringe tearing my fingers through my hair. The clumps of semi soaked blood and...something else I'm trying with every fibre of my being to not think of. Like breaking apart marinated bocconcini.
