I'm Gone But You're Still Here

Chapter 10

Standing outside her home, Olive looked around carefully, bobbing her head side to side. She knew she'd track in dust and blood if she were to go throw her bedroom window, or even the front door. Steering her way to window which led to the bathroom she attempted to lift it up. Shit. It was jammed; pulling harder and giving it a little jiggle, she finally succeeded. Propping off her shoes and holding them with her index and middle, she climbed in, making sure not to create commotion.

She put her ear closely against the wall, being sure not to touch it. As the listening commenced, the silence was so great she could hear a pin drop. He isn't home yet, good. Olive got lucky, this time.

Not wanting anyone to see what she's done, or that she's done it, Olive threw her shoes out the window, hoping to retrieve them later. She undressed carefully, chucking those out the window as well. Her gaze got caught as she turned to close it, her clothing was scattered about the yard, some couldn't be seen through her lawn and dirt. Chuckling at the sight, she shut the window tight.

She was about to flip on the switch until she analyzed her hands; grimy and still had the signs of what she'd done all over them. Her arm, however, was protected by a jacket, hence less blood covered it. Statistically she managed to turn the faucet.

The warm droplets felt soothing against her skin. Starring at the floor with a blank face as the blood, grime, and everything in between swirled down the drain. Caked on dirt covered her exposed skin. Soap and bubbles began to consume her body as she harshly scrubbed.

Her skin now pigmented red where she'd scrubbed the hardest showed on her paleness. Her attempt at uncovering the remnants from under her fingernails proved faulty. A butter knife, tweezers, a fingernail clipper, tools that simply didn't dig far enough under her skin. Small fragments remained, she figured they'd wash off later.

Olive lathered her hair with a ridiculous amount of suds, being sure to get whatever was in there, out. An aggressive series movements was preformed for this task.

As the events that'd just occurred replayed over in her mind, Olive let the soap and bubbles rinse from her figure.  Watching as they carefully slid down her legs in a molasses slow movement. Down the drain they went, water making sure they were long gone and stayed there.

Stepping out, she began to dry off and get dressed, night was upon her and still, no one was home. The idea of hanging out with Valerie was out of the question, but still, an urge to dial her up was tempting.

Bleach. Bleach cleaned messes up, made whatever was unwanted stay gone, for good. With a mop and a bucket of the foul smelling cleaner, Olive did her tedious work of cleaning whatever was tracked in, up. Before dad gets home. Before dad gets home. A continuous cycle of words fueled her exhausted body to strain on. An emotional and physical burden it was, she was.