My Mother Divinity [Unedited]

Chapter Two

Amon has poured the last of the steaming water into a bathtub, which resembles a witch's cauldron more than the smooth porcelain cocoon I remember. Before I even dip my toes in, I have to stand in front of the mirror with the knife, considering how short to cut my hair. It reaches my waist so I'm tempted to bring it to my shoulders.

I end up setting the knife down, bothered by its presence.

The scars on my face don't bother me as much as I thought they would. The ones on my back are worse from what I can see in the twisted reflection. When Amon leaves and I shut the door behind him, I push in at the skin of my arms, testing how easily I could bruise. It's a dangerous thing to not be able to feel pain. A part of me could be on fire and I'd never know until I saw the flames.

I unwrap the bar of soap from its crinkled paper and sink down into the water. It would usually be deemed romantic, the candles scattered across the tiles, the curtains drawn, the sudden scent of lavender as I wash my skin. I take care to avoid the harsher marks, not wanting for an infection, not wanting for any complications at all. The dirt comes off in visible layers until the water is tinted brown.

I brush my teeth in the bath, using salt in replacement of toothpaste and when that doesn't cut it, baking soda. It tastes truly awful. I spit the mixture into a ceramic dish on the floor when I'm finished because I don't want to leave the comfort of the bath. I don't remember ever feeling this content as I shut my eyes and drift off, even if I know it will be fleeting.

Amon knocks on the door and I sit up straight. "Are you alright? It's been a while." Sure enough, the wax of the candles has started to spill onto the floor. "There's drinking water out here, but try to ration it. When you're ready, we'll check out and stop by the square again to get food before we leave."

I feel weird, like I should have a splitting headache but of course, it's not something I can experience anymore. "Can't I sleep for a bit?" I ask, half-pleading.

Hesitation, then a sigh. I know he doesn't want to leave me alone. "Fine. I'll get the food myself - I'm locking the door. We're on the fourth floor so don't try anything funny."

As if I would do that. What do I have out there in the vast expanse of the world? No recollections of family that could help me, if I even have a family still at all, no knowledge of the surrounding areas. I don't trust my body, as gloriously pain-free as it is, not to give up on me if I push it too hard.

I hear the door to our room close and a key turning in a lock. I finally get out of the water which has gone cold, and wrap a towel around myself. It hangs awkwardly off my thin frame and I know I'll have to eat more regularly if I want to fill out and lessen the effects of the exhaustion that comes with malnutrition. My hair is limp and wet and tangled with knots. Fuck it. I grab the knife from the sink and slice it through the messy chunks until I'm left with an uneven cut that looks a lot easier to brush through. I even cut myself a fringe so it will cover the marks on my forehead.

At least I'll have my own thing now, this knife. Amon certainly owns at least one himself.

I deposit the extra hair in the bin and blow out the candles. In the twin bedroom, my head hits the pillow and I sleep without a dream.

*

"Get up, he's waiting for us." I feel my shoulders being shook and I startle myself awake. Amon is dressed in fresh clothes and he's obviously dunked his head into the dirty bath water to clean the blood and smell of smoke from his hair. I pull the bedsheets subconsciously over my naked body.

He turns away so I can get up and get dressed. I pad out the shoes with extra socks like I knew I should, and wrap my face with the garments and disguises that will cover my scars. He gives me a glance when I'm done and nods. "Good haircut choice. Listen, I wasn't entirely honest when I mentioned I have to collect something. It's not something, it's someone."