Hearing My plea

15

Aspen carried me to the showers through the rain, but I hardley registered anything. My head bounced over his arm with ever step he took, although I could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible.

Once there, he kicked open one of the thick wooden stall doors with his foot and set me on the tiled floor, then cranked the water to hot. While I sat there staring at the wall without really seeing it, my pink hair in tangled strands clinging to my face and shoulders, Aspen leaned back against the ledge under the mirror across from the stall and leaned his head against the mirror, looking exhausted. The dim lights swung from the ceiling as the fan circulated the air, steam quickly rolling through as the water pounded on my back and head.

"Did you mean it?" I asked without looking at him.

"Hm?" He rolled his head to look down at me, but I had my attention on a tile that was comming off the floor.

"The cotton candy comment. Did you mean it?" Then I met his gaze, not with a hurt expression, but with a curious one.

He continued to stare at me, and I patiently waited for him to say something before he opened his mouth and said "Yes. I meant every word."

I said nothing and gave a single nod, turning my attention back to the tile. In an unusual way, I wasn't hurt. I imagine it was because my brain was commanding my body not to feel anything, causing the numbness in my arms and legs.

"Peyton you're beautiful just the way you are," he said, "and I know girls think that doing that stuff with their hair is fun, but I prefer you blonde. You dont need to change. Not for anyone."

"But what if I did it for myself?" I asked, ignoring the compliment. I met his eyes again but steam was rolling between us, making it difficult to see.

"I can't imagine why you would."

We held each others gaze, then after a moment he walked up and turned the water off. I mentally cursed when the cold came again, and I would have said the profanity, too, if it weren't for the yawn that overtook me.

"Come on," Aspen said, scooping me into his arms once again, heading for the door. "Your skin is starting to turn the color of your hair. And it looks like you could use some sleep too."

I mumbled an argument along the lines of not being tired at all, but after the first few words I gave up, because hey, who was I kidding?

As he carried me through the woods, his feet making no noise over the branches and leaves, he began to hum. The song was thick and slow like honey, if a song can be thick. It was beautiful. I tried to stay conscious to get lost in his hypnotic hum, but I was already gone.

~*~

The moment I opened my eyes, I knew the cabin was empty. I knew that even before I got up and opened my bedroom door. Willis' door was open, the cabin cold and silent. I was alone.

I couldnt sleep. I didn't want to risk dreamscaping, and if I drempt the normal way, my mind kept creating black tar monsters and figures in hooded robes with knives. Sleep was out of the question.

I turned on every light in the cabin, then put a pan on the stove to cook up some food. I stood awkwardly in front of it. I knew there was not much in the fridge, nothing except for a can of soup in one of the cuboards. I turned the stove off, put the pan away. I sat at the table and yawned, raking my hands through my hair to comb out the tangles. What could I do to keep myself awake? My fingers hit a tangle in my hair.

Wait...

The box of Wiccan hair dye was still on the counter next to the sink. Did I want to change it back? Aspen said I shouldn't have changed. He said I was beautiful blonde. He said I shouldn't have to change it for my self. He said I was beautiful.