' They're gonna clean up your looks
With all the lies in the books
To make a citizen out of you'
The lukewarm water cascaded from the shower head, dampening my hair. I squeezed a quarter size amount of shampoo into my hand, working it into my hair. The beginning notes of a familiar song filled the small bathroom, blocking out all the noise coming from the surrounding rooms. The shower acted as an escape, isolating me from the events occurring outside of the "bathroom". It was as close to a bathroom as I could get, with its broken tile, a single, dim light bulb and a shower that only worked when it wanted to. I made sure to shut the thin wood door behind me, not wanting any wandering men from the other room to enter. I could hear the faint footsteps of Harry walking through the hall, but they soon became inaudible.
The soapy water sat in the bottom of the disintegrating tub, slowly making it's way down the drain. A small noise came from inside the room, I hesitantly slid the curtain, a wave of relief hitting when I saw the cat sitting on the towel I had folded on the table. I glanced at the door, making sure it was still completely shut. I turned the water up to as hot as it would go, stepping back under the stream to rinse the remainder of the soap.
I squeezed my eyes shut, scrubbing my face quickly. Shutting my eyes in the shower was something I never felt comfortable with, but it had to be done, unless I wanted to spend five minutes removing soap from my corneas. The stream of water engulfed my face, rinsing the face wash down to the tub. I heard the door creak open. My chest tightened as I removed the remainder of the soap, not knowing what to do. My shaky hand pulled the curtain a small amount, causing a small draft to enter the shower. I peeked out from behind the curtain, a cheeky smile on the face of the culprit of my massive fright.
"Scared you didn't I?"
He chuckled, running his fingers through his greasy hair. Stubble on his chin had reappeared, helping to mask the small scar along his jaw. Tattoos filled every inch of skin on his arms moving down to the ends of his finger tips. He had a laugh that could silence a busy restaurant , a smile that could draw attention from anyone in a two mile distance. But the tattoos never completely covered the small purple bruises on the insides of his arms, and his laugh could not fill in his sunken cheeks. His radiant smile couldn't remove the blood stains from his knuckles or from under the rug in the kitchen. Nothing could give Harry and I a clean slate or a white picket fence life, and nothing could return my heart.
I signaled for him to hand me the discolored towel on the table, wrapping it around my soaked body. The cat bolted out of the room, nearly tripping Harry. He cursed angrily, throwing a fist into the air. I pushed the wet hair from my face, glancing into the broken mirror. Harry finished his fit, putting his attention back on me. He took a step forward, placing both of his arms on my shoulders. His lips connected with mine, tasting like pennies. I pulled up my towel, feeling it start to slip. Harry's lips left mine, travelling down my jaw to my neck. I had my arm placed lazily around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder.
"I love you"
He mumbled into my neck. I felt something in his back pocket, running my fingers over the cold metal. The small hand gun casually sat in the pocket of his ripped jeans, just as a wallet would sit in the pocket of someone else's. The gun had not been there just to be there, it must have been used, or at least placed there with intentions to be used. I took in a sharp breath, placing a small kiss on his protruding shoulder blade.
"I love you more."
'Teenagers scare the living shit out of me
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes and strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone but not me.'
