Page 13 of Room 1003

Flustered, I grabbed the shampoo from the little basket hanging under the showerhead and got my hair lathered. Dad would be home with Kit any minute, and then the real chaos would begin.

With my fingers buried in my soapy hair, suds dripping down my face, that was the moment I felt the spray on my back stutter. I froze, holding my breath. The water hiccupped. Then it choked. Then it died. The pressure went from 60 to zero in 1.3 seconds.

“No!” I shouted, quickly trying to shove my head under the last trickle of water, attempting to rinse my hair before it could give out entirely, but I was too late. “Come on,” I groaned, flipping the shower back down to the faucet, turning the taps on and off.

For a second, I thought it was going to come back. There was a thunk, then a whine. It was through stinging eyes that I watched a thick, black goop begin to trickle from the faucet. “Fudge on a stick,” I cursed, constantly aware of little ears.

The slime plopped out across the bottom of the tub. “No, no, no,” I chanted, my eyes burning, fumbling with the taps as I tried to turn it off.

My first mistake had been thinking I could take a shower without anything going wrong, but that wasn’t where my mistakes ended. My heel slipped in the sludge, my right foot going one direction, my left another. My entire world tilted as I was thrown back. I reached blindly for anything to grab hold of on the way down, my fingers latching onto the curtain. It slowed my descent for only a second, before the curtain tore, followed by the curtain rod detaching from the ceiling.

My forehead came down on the rim of the tub, and I must’ve shouted, but I couldn’t say for sure. I saw stars, and my ears were ringing. I was distantly aware of someone yelling and the thud of heavy feet headed my way.

The door swung open with a bang, and the doorway was filled with a wild-eyed Ben. “Shane! What happened?! Are you okay?” One wide step brought him to my side, and he hovered there, scared to touch me.

I had enough wherewithal to cling to that poor torn shower curtain, keeping all my important bits covered. “I-I slipped,” I stuttered, trying to look up at him, but I could barely open my eyes, with shampoo still dripping. I used the crook of my arm to try to wipe it away, but with all the muck in the tub, I didn’t know if I was doing more harm than good.

“Oh gods, Shane!” Ben sounded worried. “Your head, you’re bleeding!”

“I am?” Reaching up, I poked at my forehead, hissing at the sharp sting, and sure enough, my finger came away painted red. I pointed to the cabinet. “There are towels under the sink.”

He grabbed two. With the first, he gently wiped my eyes clear, then put pressure on my forehead. The second one, he passed to me. “For your waist…” he explained, and even under his beard, I could tell he was blushing. To his credit, he seemed to keep his attention trained above the waist. “Let’s get you out of there and cleaned up. I’ve got a first-aid kit in the truck.”

While he ran to grab his kit, I took the moment of privacy to carefully climb out of the tub. Now I didn’t just ache, Ihurt. It seemed my head wasn’t the only thing I hit on the way down. My elbow was throbbing, as was my hip. There would be bruises tomorrow, I was sure of it.

I left brown-black footprints across the bathmat, then secured the towel around my waist. I hissed when I caught sight of myself in the tarnished mirror. I was a gory mess, like something out of a horror movie. The blood was mixing with the drying shampoo to make a pink paste. “Shit,” I muttered, immediately feeling guilty for the bad word, even though Kit wasn’t home to hear it. I pinched my lips shut.

The heavy tread of Ben’s work boots came back up the stairs, slower this time. “Are you decent?” he called from the hall.

“Decent enough,” I said, confirming the towel was tight, with no gaps in awkward places. “Come on in.”

He kept his eyes on the kit in his hands. “I’ve got some rubbing alcohol and gauze. We’ll get it cleaned up before we decide if you need stitches.”

With a gentle nudge, he guided me to lean on the edge of the sink, then began to clean the cut. I barely felt the pain from the disinfectant. For someone as large as he was, he had a remarkably soft touch. I put my trust in him and closed my eyes, focusing on the pressure from his leg against mine, the flutter of his fingers over my skin. He smelled good, a mixture of sawdust and a spicy cologne.

My musing was interrupted by the sound of the front door closing downstairs and Kit’s excited voice saying, “Wow! There’s no ceiling!”

I blinked my eyes open and found myself looking into Ben’s warm gaze. We stared at each other for a long moment, neither one of us breaking contact. Then he drew in a deep breath and shook his head, taking a step back. I felt cold suddenly without him pressed against me. “No stitches,” he said, distracted. “Um, I’m sorry, I don’t have any smaller band-aids.” He held up a massive patch. “I guess I’m too prepared.”

“Don’t worry, I have that covered.” I reached behind me and pulled on the edge of the mirror to reveal a small cupboard behind it. I didn’t have much in there yet, but when you had kids, band-aids were a necessity—even when the boo-boo was entirely imagined. “Who’s your favorite Beetlebop?” I asked Ben, making a face.

“What?” He quirked an eyebrow in confusion. It was clear he didn’t have kids of his own.

I pulled out three different patterns. “I’ve got Bart, Beebee, or Blaze.”

He laughed and plucked the yellow one from between my fingers. “Whichever one this is.”

“Beebee, a good choice. She is by far the least annoying of the three. Kit will approve.”

Ben carefully peeled off the backing then brushed my hair aside so he could stick the bandage on. “There you go. Good as new.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far…” I said warily, peeking past him to the disaster that was my bathtub.

“Yeah, there is that.” He pursed his lips, taking in the scene. “Plumbing… okay. We can handle plumbing.” He didn’t sound overly sure of himself, but I’d trusted him this far. Why stop now?

“Sure. Okay. We got this.”

This house was clearly out to get me, but maybe it was enough to know that I wasn’t going down alone.

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