Page 12 of Reaper & Ruin
“The Heather employs its natural camouflage, blending into its surroundings with the help of its quilt-like shell. Watch as it attempts to avoid detection by the dominant males of the group.” I shuffled toward the bathroom with all the stealth of a mildly agitated sloth.
Atlas was scared of sloths. I’d heard him tell Gio that. It made no sense to me, but I suppose everyone had to have a fear. Even hitmen and hackers who killed easier than I shook my ass for rich men or chocolate.
For a second, I had the oddest memory. Like a dream of aliens and chocolate. Something just on the edges of my subconscious but not enough for me to grab onto.
Halfway to my haven, Gio shifted on the couch, and my heart lurched and subconscious quieted down. He opened oneeye and glanced in my direction, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Look who decided to join the land of the living. It’s nice to see you’re still alive,amore mio.”
I ignored him. Ignoring him was usually the safest option, especially when I had no desire to find my pretty switchblade to give him another scar.
My grip on the quilt tightened as I sped up, my bare feet sliding slightly on the smooth wooden floor.
“The Heather senses danger and quickens its pace, seeking refuge in its designated safe space.”I huffed even quieter.
“Morning to you, too,” he called after me, his tone dripping with amusement.
I didn’t bother responding because the only response I could think of was to hiss at him. But I didn’t want to risk upsetting Malivore, who was napping by the fireplace, by making her think that her mortal enemy, a cat, was in our home.
Atlas glanced over his shoulder as I passed, but thankfully, he didn’t say anything. He just raised a pierced eyebrow, his expression unreadable. I’d take it as a win, seeing as he wasn’t racing to my side, eager to smother me with affection.
I loved his affection, but I didn’t want it until I was clean. It was hard to relax in a hug when you stunk like poor life choices and regret. Oh, and a bit of cherry cola that you’d spilled on yourself two days prior.
Finally, I reached the bathroom and slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind me. I leaned back against it, my heart racing like I’d just completed a marathon. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the worn tiles and the simple pink shower curtain someone had installed in my rotting days, and let out a slow breath.
Unfortunately, the slow breathing allowed my stink to hit my nose harder, and I had no choice but to shed my quilt and clothes, hurrying my ass into the shower.
It was instantly better in my head.
There was nothing quite like realizing you’d forgotten how to human properly until you stepped into a shower for the first time in days and immediately felt like you were reenacting a baptism. Except instead of redemption, all you were washing off was self-pity and crumbs from your last attempt at emotional eating.
Blueberry muffin, sort of emotional eating. Homemade by a Russian dude with skeleton tatts and a penchant for stalking and sweet words.
As the water hit me, I couldn’t help but narrate the moment internally again, David Attenborough style clearly a new special interest of mine for the day.
“Observe the Heather in its unnatural habitat. The shower, an environment usually frequented by the species, now serves as a site of rare activity. It appears the subject has finally recognized the importance of hygiene, though it remains unclear whether this realization will become a habit.” I pressed my palms against the tiles and let out a long breath, already questioning every life choice that had led me to this particular shower scene.
I reached for the soap as I closed my eyes, hoping that if I couldn’t see the world, then it could not see me. Or the state I’d been in since finding out the truth about my best friend’s death.
More importantly, who had raped and murdered her purely because he thought she wasme.
Turned out it wasn’t just a match to Gio. It was his… his…
It was athingthat my men already had a plan to end. Thethingthey had sat down and told me was evil alongside Reaper’s fifty billion step plan to ruin his life without murder or fallback on innocent people.
The bar of soap was slippery, but I clutched it like it held the key to my redemption. “Goodbye, emotional breakdown,”I muttered as I scrubbed my arm, “hello, raw epidermis.” The suds spiraled down the drain, taking with them what I hoped was the last vestige of my grief-induced self-sabotage.
By the second round of scrubbing, I felt something almost resembling optimism creeping in. Not enough to inspire anything rash, like smiling, but enough to make me believe I might make it out of the bathroom without needing to crawl. I lathered up again for good measure, the narration continuing, when I quickly shaved and noticed an odd amount of dirt on my shins for someone who hadn’t been outside in days, or given a good blowjob for just as long.
“The Heather’s thoroughness is remarkable. Note her meticulous scrubbing, likely a reaction to the extended period of dormancy that preceded this activity. One might say she’s attempting to shed her skin like a snake, though the results remain to be seen.”
The shower curtain fluttered slightly, and for a brief moment, I froze in the middle of my hissing. I’d definitely heard the bathroom door open and close. Of course, I wasn’t about tocheck. I was naked, vulnerable, and mid-debacle. The last thing I needed was to make eye contact with whoever had invaded my sacred domain. Instead, I resumed scrubbing my shoulder, deciding that if they weren’t screaming or barging into the hot stream, it probably wasn’t my problem.
Still, the presence of another person lingered like an itch at the back of my mind. My narration continued once more.
“The Heather demonstrates remarkable restraint in the face of potential threat. Rather than confront the intruder, she chooses to focus on her grooming ritual, trusting that the quilted armor she left behind will remain unmolested. And her ass willnotbe fiddled when she bends over to grab potentially dropped soap.”
Once I’d rinsed myself off for the third time and washed my hair twice, I turned the water off and stood there for a moment, listening.Nothing. Either whichever man of mine had disturbed me had left, or they were silently judging me from the other side of the door.
I reached for the towel hanging on the rack and dried myself off quickly, deciding not to check for potential murderers in my space.
