Wronged

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QOC: How tf does this have 6K views? And so quickly?! I love you guys! On a more serious note: Are you a PB & J fan or a ham fan?

Update: I started writing this chapter like three days ago and it had 4K. So I originally had "How tf does this have 4K views? And so quickly?! I love you guys!" But you're amazing so of course y'all just somehow skyrocketed my views by 2,000 in 72 hours. No big deal.

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- Anna's POV -

People use the expression "it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack" when explaining what it feels like to do something pointlessly.

In my case then, I'm going to uncover every single piece of straw until that needle is found. More realistically, I'm going to continue pressing forward during this trial that is about to ensue until Aiden and Dakota can be proven innocent of man slaughter. It was self defense.

But for now I need to focus on getting a shower and becoming a clean human being once more.

I sigh and turn on the faucet of the hotel shower before sticking my hand underneath the water until it turns into my ideal temperature. Then I step inside, feeling the scalding liquid melt away the winter-ish feeling of my soul.

I think about everything that'd happened after I left the hospital this morning. Lyma had come to pick Hayley, Lily, and I up since Nico left to talk to Aiden, and I needed to get clean and prepared for tomorrow. Lily would have waited for her mother since she's coming today to retrieve her, but that'll have to be postponed since here was no one to watch her at the hospital.

Anyway, after Lyma got us all together, we came down and off the mountain to travel to Denver, which wasn't too bad of a drive. Unfortunately, though, and just like that, we were back in a city. Albeit it has much more naturalistic features than New York, but it still has buildings and repulsive pollution surrounding the air.

Lyma got us a room to stay in, which has two beds and a pullout couch. We don't really think we'll need the futon if Lily's going to be leaving tonight, but it's nice to have just in case.

So that's where I am now: a hotel called "Western Inn," using their hot water supply.

After I scrub my scalp with shampoo and conditioner and rid my body of any grime, I turn off the shower and step out onto the bathroom tiles. They feel unsafe, so I am cautious about stepping around to grab a towel and to wipe the mirror's steam off.

When I can clearly see my reflection, I want to cry. It's not that I think I'm ugly or regurgitation-worthy. I mean, I don't think that about myself anymore. I realize I'm not the prettiest girl on the planet, but I'm not ape-face ugly either. I can at least come to acceptance with that now. But that has nothing to do with the reason my appearance wants to make me drain my body of any remaining tears I have left.

It's because I look completely drained. And that scares me. It scares me because that's how I looked before I got the help I needed. Before I was cared for. Before I had a family. Before I was loved. It's a real life nightmare.

The dark circles underneath my eyes remind me of the countless nights that I never slept. The bloodshot whites around my pupils cause me to recall the days where drugs were pumped into me for experimentation constantly and consistently. The pale color of my skin is a symbol of how sick I always was locked away in a dingy basement. And the malnutrition in my cheeks and neck only make me remember that, once again, I haven't been eating and I haven't gone to the gym in ages.