Page 13 of The Outsider

He led her down the hall and pointed toward the bathroom. “Here you go.”

He closed the door, and she locked it. She turned on the water, and just stood there for a full minute, not quite sure what had happened. Not quite sure how this was how the day had gone. She took her sweatshirt off and her beanie came with it. Then she took off her T-shirt, and her bra. She looked at herself in the mirror for a long time. She wished she hadn’t.

The woman standing in front of her was so thin that Bix hardly recognized her.

She could see her ribs; her stomach sank in pitifully. She looked at her breasts critically. They weren’t very big. And that was even more true with the weight that she’d lost.

Her face was thin and drawn. Pale. She took the rubber band out of her hair. Her hair was greasy, stringy. Dull.

She swallowed hard and turned on the shower, ran her hand under the water and found herself delighted by the warmth. She couldn’t worry about how she looked when she had a hot shower to look forward to.

She slid her jeans off her hips and didn’t bother to look at herself again. She got into the shower, and she really did just about cry. The water felt so good. So soothing. She had been cold down to her bones, and she just felt... dirty.

She swallowed at the lump in her throat. Her chest felt bruised. She knew it wasn’t because she had just looked at her skinny chest in the mirror.

She lathered up the soap and ran it over her skin, then took her time washing her hair. She didn’t want the shower to end, but she was hungry. And there was dinner on the other side of this. She got out of the shower and tugged on the sweatpants. They had an elastic band down at the ankles, thankfully, or she would’ve been trailing fabric down beneath the bottoms of her feet. As it was, it just bunched up there comically. She grabbed hold of the drawstring and pulled as tight as she possibly could, cinching it up around her waist.

She could barely get them tight enough. She knotted the string ruthlessly. She lifted up the sweater, and she had to laugh. Because it literally said Police Academyon it. Of all the things. Her dad would have an absolute cow.

But her dad wasn’t here. This copwashere.

Of all the things.

She put the sweatshirt over her head and gloried in the feeling of the soft fabric against her bare skin. Gloried in the feeling of being clean.

She gathered up her dirty clothes and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Do you have a washing machine?” she asked.

“Yeah. Do you have more clothes in your backpack?”

“Yes,” she said.

She was acutely aware of the fact that she was barefoot, with wet hair. There was something weird and intimate about it. She didn’t especially like it. She wasn’t used tointimate.

“You can wash all your clothes if you want.”

“I... I would. Thanks. You don’t happen to have an extra pair of socks, do you?”

“I definitely do.”

Her shoes would still work, but clean socks would be amazing.

He explained where the laundry room was, and she followed his instructions to get there, dumping all of her clothes in the washing machine and starting the load. By the time she went back to the living area he was there with a pair of black socks. She sat down on the couch and pulled them over her feet, taking pleasure in the simple activity. She put her shoes on and wiggled her toes.

“You ready to go have dinner?”

“Sure,” she said.

It was like she’d washed some of the anger and suspicion off her skin. And she couldn’t say if that was a good thing or not. In general, it wasn’t. She knew.

But this felt so good, and she felt mollified.

Safe.

“We can take my truck back over to the house. No reason to take the cop car.”

She climbed into the passenger seat beside him. “Are you married?” she asked.

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