Cigarettes and Alcohol

Wet

Kurt let me have a shower not long after we made our plans to go to England in a couple of weeks. The bathroom was beautiful, it was simplistic and white with blue trims throughout. It was light, with a dappled window in front of the wide, claw foot bath tub. I was able to finally look in the mirror after nearly a day of being in the past, and I was shocked when I saw myself.

I looked like a homeless drug addict, which honestly wasn't far from the truth when you think about it. My normally thick, curly dark red hair was greasy and sad looking. My green eyes seemed unusually cold and grey. My mascara, which I normally apply heavily anyway, was crumbling and stuck out my eyelashes in odd places, I looked paler than the bath tub and my freckles looked more like dirt than skin. I looked sickly and thin and I can see why Kurt let me stay, I looked like a right charity case. So I opened the cabinet and found some overpriced makeup remover, taking off what mascara I could and washed my face with some equally overpriced face wash.

After my face looked less dead, I stripped down and turned on the shower, and God was it refreshing. I finally begun to feel clean after shampooing my hair and washing my body over. So, after about ten minutes in this wonderful shower, I got out, dried off and put my clothes back on. My hair looked more healthy, my skin a bit more flushed and human looking, and I felt clean. It was nice.

After finding a hair brush and tugging out the knots, I put my clothes on. Although my tights were still laddered from god knows when, even my dress looked cleaner after my shower. I'm glad I had my favourite dress with me back in time, it was magnificent and my favourite for a reason. It was black but with a beautiful glimmer in it that sparkled in the light very delicately. It was short, just short enough to show off my legs but long enough to not make me look like a tart when worn with my jacket. It was an old green army blazer with big pockets and big shoulder pads to make whatever strong army man wearing it look big and powerful. On the lapels it had several anti war pins and logos. I know, I know, I'm hilarious.

After checking over myself one more time I left and headed over to Frances' room where Kurt was. Or where I thought he was. When I entered only the nightlight was on, the blinds pulled closed and an unusually cold feeling ran down my back.

There was a figure sat by Frances, a woman by the look of it, with long brown hair and a pale face. I was frozen, terrified for the baby and terrified to move. It was dark and I could barely see her.

Who was she?

What the fuck was she doing here?

She turned to stare at me, as if I was intruding. Yet when her eyes landed on me, she smiled softly, familiarly. She was staring deep into my eyes, as if she knew all about me.
I recognised her eyes, where had I seen them before?

That's when it dawned on me.

Those blue eyes only belong to one man.

One family.

Fuck.

'Frances?' I said, fucking terrified. The only response I got was a wink before she disappeared.

What the fuck.

Where did she go?

What just happened.

What.

The.

Fuck.

So, I did the only thing a reasonable person would do in that situation, and faint.

—

Will she go back to her normal time? Ooooo cliffhanger once again I really need to stop this