Delirious || Bozari

Chapter Thirty-Three: Mari

Rebel appeared at Mari's cell twenty minutes after Ericka left, holding a change of clothes. It was then that Mari realized that she hadn't taken a shower in a week. She must've gotten used to the smell of herself.

"Vixen wants you to take a shower," Rebel unlocked her cell and looked up at her. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Mari grumbled as she snatched the clothes out of Rebel's hands and stormed out of the abandoned toy shop.

It was like the first time she'd seen the Compound. After spending so much time in that one room, she'd almost forgotten it. Every aspect, every detail of all the shops and girls seemed brand new to her. In a way, it was exhilarating. In another, it was terrifying. More than ever before, she was out of her element here.

Or was she? Mari couldn't deny it to herself; the thought of being one of Vixen's girls seemed far from unappealing to her. She knew she was messed up for feeling that way, but she couldn't shake it.

As she walked, every woman she passed turned to look at her, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping. Let them. Mari didn't care about how everyone else thought of her. She had far more pressing issues on her mind.

The bathrooms weren't far away from the jail, so she arrived quickly. The Compound hadn't come with showers, so some of Ericka's fixers had to make some. They'd truly done a splendid job, rearranging the pipes so the showers worked. Mari's only complaint was the water, which was always cold no matter how much you turned the dial. 

There was no one else in the bathroom, which Mari was grateful for. She'd had enough of being everyone's entertainment. Some alone time just what she needed.

She showered quickly. Showers always made her think, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was that. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, she wanted to enjoy her freedom.

When she finished, she grabbed one of the towels off the hooks on the wall and dried herself, before getting changed. The outfit Rebel had given her was the standard one for all of Ericka's girls; the black leather jacket, skinny white tank top, ripped jeans, and black pumps. There's even a little tube of lipstick lying on top.

Mari got changed and looked at herself in the mirror, which they'd fixed from the time she'd punched it. The woman staring back at her was almost unrecognizable. Her roots had started to grow in, and her eyes were hardened. She couldn't see any type of emotion in them. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't fill them with anything.

She gripped the sides of the sink basin, staring at the little white scars that freckled her hand. A reminder of the last time she'd looked in a mirror. After that, Atomic had avoided them like the plague.

But Mari's reflection didn't scare here. She knew who she was now. The burns on her temple weren't a mystery; they were a reassurance. Wesley had thought he had won. But he hadn't. She was back, and he was dead. Even if she wasn't the one who held the gun.

As soon as she got the chance, she was going to wash the remaining purple out of her hair, and burn the outfit Silver had made for her along with his bow. She was starting the third phase of her life. Dr. Takahashi. Atomic. And now, Mari. She didn't want to keep any mementos of the personas she'd left behind sitting around.

She looked back up at her reflection and grabbed her lipstick, applying it to her lips carefully. If you looked at her, you wouldn't be able to tell that she was any different than the rest of Ericka's girls. And that was exactly what she wanted.

Mari stepped back from the mirror and grabbed her last pair of clothes before throwing them in the trash. Without sparing another glance at her reflection, she walked out the door.