The water has warmed up, and I scrub myself with my hands to get most of the blood off. My hair will need to be shampooed properly when I get home—no, when I go to River’s, and I steal his soap and shampoo and can wash away every part of me that’s trying to destroy me.
I shut the water off, and I grab one of Declan’s white towels to dry myself. Blood smears across it, my cuts catching against the fabric, but it’s another thing I don’t care about.
I get into my dirty underwear and shorts, but I stop before I pull my bra on.
I should bandage myself, or I’ll end up in the same mess as before.
The cabinet behind the mirror has shaving supplies and over the counter pain meds, but no bandages. I bend down and check under the sink. There’s a proper first aid kit there, and I pull it out so I can treat my wounds.
My fingers tingle as I clean the cuts with isopropyl alcohol.
That’s a good sign, I think. It means I’ve got feeling in them. It even stings a little when I cover my cuts with the bandages.
I pack everything up again and move to put the first aid kit back when I spot something in the back of the cabinet. It’s a small jar, and when I open it, I find a blister pack of tablets inside.
They’re white, with lines for easy cutting across two directions. The Spanish on the back has usage instructions.
More importantly, it saysflunitrazepamon it.
I don’t have to look that up to know what it is.
I stuff all the packets into my backpack and put the jar and the first aid kit back where I found them. I finish dressing, not bothering to zip up my hoodie.
When I stand and look at the mirror, I force myself to smile.
Look at that. I look almost normal. My makeup is smeared, and my lips don’t quite look right, but I’m getting there.
I open the door and say to Declan, “You’re out of shampoo and soap.”
Declan blinks at me. “But I had…” He trails off, his gaze going to my chest, then he pauses. “Okay. Here.” He holds out a shirt and a skirt, but he seems preoccupied with the sight of the bandages.
I take the shirt, holding it up to myself—and freeze when I see the design on it.
It’s got a movie poster on it, from one of the indie movies Carly was telling me about.
If the roofies in his bathroom weren’t proof enough, I’m now sure of it. Declan is the one who drugged her.
“Where’d you get this?” I ask. I have to take the hoodie off so I can pull the shirt on, baring my chest to him. “You don’t strike me as the obscure indie movie type of guy.”
He shrugs, his eyes glued to my tits. “We keep clothes on hand, just in case.”
“In case what?” I ask as I put my hoodie back on. I sling the backpack on too, and I stuff my hands into my hoodie pockets. “In case you need to burn evidence?”
“Burn evi—” he begins, then shakes his head. “I don’t know whatyou’re talking about. Look, Zayden will be here any second. You can talk to him about what Asch did to you.”
What Asch did to me? He didn’t do anything! Asch was fucking perfect.
He and Blaze ruined it, but I’m over it now. I’ve forgiven them for not knowing they weren’t allowed to touch my charm.
Honestly, it’s mostly a shame Blaze didn’t join in and smear the blood across my chest.
I nod and go to sit in Declan’s desk chair. “Sure. Before he shows up, do you want to tell mewhyyou roofied all those people?”
His eyes widen, and while he tries to play it cool, he can’t hide from me. “I didn’t roofie anyone,” he says. “That’s a really fucked-up accusation to make, Pandora.”
“Oh, did nobody tell you about me? Iamfucked up!” I say, and maybe parts of me are still oozing out of the holes in my chest, but I’m feeling much better now.
I roll the chair closer to the door, blocking Declan’s exit.
