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My body jerks, and I wake with a start. I'm too hot, the blanket stuck to my body, creating an oven effect. Kicking my legs, I manage to untangle myself. Where am I? I'm still here.
When I'm free, I leap out of bed, barely using the ladder, and grip the side of the bunk, my nails digging into the wood. I draw in a deep breath and then force it out.
You're not too hot or too cold. You're fine.
My clothes cling to my sweaty body. I didn't shower last night because I was exhausted, but I need one now. I think I only got about three hours of sleep, but I can't lay there anymore. Legs, now fully supporting my weight, spin me around, and I dash into the bathroom. Light was just beginning to peck through the small window as I passed, so I know it's morning. Ian sleep at all, but i don't feel tired anymore.
I strip out of my old clothes and turn the shower spray on. I step under the stream of warm water and close my eyes. Pressing my palms against the tiled wall, I allow a few tears to fall. But I keep my head down so even if they can see me in here,they won't see me cry.
The hot water washes away my tears. When I shut the shower off, I take two deep, calming breaths that make me light-headed. I grab a towel, wrap it around my body, and step out of the shower. That's enough now. No more crying. Getting upset and feeling sorry for myself isn't going to help. People have had far worse happen to them and survived.
Once I'm dry, I grab clean underwear and slip it on under the towel. It's much harder when you're trying to dress while holding something around you, but the show is over. They're not getting another glimpse of my skin today. If they're even watching right now. They probably are, though. Won't they want to see the aftermath of my first time in one of those rooms? Of course, they will. They'll be getting happy or some shit on the fact that I cried, that I was scared. I straighten my back and let the towel drop as I shimmy the sweatshirt down over my stomach. You niggas aren't breaking me.
