Page 113 of Not Quite Dead Yet

A cut on her knee, a nebula of bruised skin already forming around it.

A gash on her left palm, from the broken window.

But the worst of it was this feeling in her chest. Too tight, squeezing her heart out of place, into the base of her throat.

And those words she still couldn’t let go of, even though the danger had passed.

Her lip quivered and her eyes stung.

She pressed them shut and wished it away, this feeling. It couldn’t help her.

Turned the shower even colder, her skin ridging with goosebumps.

Her chest tightened the more she pretended to ignore it, couldn’t swallow past her stupid heart.

Jet turned the shower off, had been in here long enough, and the water couldn’t wash that feeling away.

Pushed the door open with her good elbow.

Grabbed the towel with her good hand.

How could you … how could you wrap a towel around you with only one hand?

Fuck.

That almost did it, broke her in half, but Jet held herself together, even though she only had one hand to do it.

She stood there, naked, dripping, a puddle on the tiles.

Pinched her dead arm, because how dare it leave her to die like that?

Tried something else.

Stuffed one corner of the towel in the gap in the radiator, enough to hold it firm.

Bent down and tried to wrap herself into it, holding the other side.

The towel came free, dropped to the floor.

A frustrated growl that made Jet’s eyes sting harder, made them swim.

She blinked them back, tried again.

Stuffed the corner in farther, so it wouldn’t tug free. Held the other side in her left hand, wrapped herself inside it, knees bent, spinning, awkward. She just about made it, catching the other corner half a second before it made a break for it.

Both corners in one hand.

She tightened her fist, holding the towel together under her right armpit, covering herself.

She turned.

Stopped.

Stared at the closed bathroom door, no hands to open it.

That almost did it too, pressing her lips together to stop them from shaking, her chin buckling, ready to go, to take her down with it.

No. Jet refused. She raised her foot, pressed her toes against the metal handle, pushed down.

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