Page 123 of A Foster Fling
“I need your mouth for this next part.” I can feel his smile on me when I jolt. “Don’t be a pervert. I need you to talk.” He whisks the tape off and stands back up, I can feel him in front of me.
“About what?” I whisper.
“Do you prefer baths or showers?”
“Baths.” It slips out before it registers. “Eww wait, why are you asking?” It comes out I a horrified gasp.
“Eww?” He scoffs. “What’s eww is you. You smell like ass.” He snaps the front of my shirt and moves behind me. “I was giving you the option as a favor. You can’t get out of this apartment without me so keep that in mind before you try to kill me with the toilet seat or something.” The zip ties on my wrists come off and the sudden return of circulation makes my hands cramp.
I pull them in front of me and try to squeeze the blood back into them. I’m tempted to yank the hood off my head but seeing his face would be the final nail in my coffin for sure, so I refrain. I turn my head hearing him open, yet another door and water starts running.
“Come in here.” He calls just loud enough to carry over the water.
“No thank you.” I mumble facing forward again.
“It wasn’t a request, get up.” He appears at my ear and I squeak.
“I didn’t think you could hear me.” I say in a rush.
“Well I did. Let’s go. You’re getting the bed dirty.”
“Youthrew me in the fucking dirt!” I yell aghast.
He pulls me up by my arm and pushes me from behind towards the sound of the running water. “You smell like smoke and cranberries.” He spits.
“Cranberries?” I bite out. “Hardly the worst thing I could smell like.”
He catches me by the back of my shirt and pulls me backwards. “It means you smell like him and that means I want to cut your skin off, so you don’t remind me of what was taken from me anymore.” Before I can say anything else he pushes me into the bathroom.
“When the door closes you can take the bag off. Take all the time you need but if you don’t get that smell out of your hair I’ll shave it off.” With that he slams the door.
I refuse to look in the mirror before stripping and getting into the water. I already know what I would see.
A dead woman walking.
Chapter Five
SCORNFUL WORDS, ETERNAL IRE, DELICATE SKIN KISSED BY FIRE.
You’re probably thinking I’m crazy for how quick I dived into this bathtub, but we’ve been over the fact that I’m a little skewed in the brainwave department. First of all the thing is huge. It’s what I know as an elephant foot tub. Rather than a claw foot...you get the idea.
Secondly, the smell of myself when I got that mask off made my eyes water. You know how you don’t realize how bad you smell until you’re in a place that smells sort of like nothing? I smelled like the grandfather of all ashtrays. How that man smelled cranberries is beyond my understanding.
Then there was the fact that the strange warmth and tingling was still shooting all over my body. The urge to rub myself all over everything I could touch was hard to ignore. I suppose it’s a strange form of adrenaline brought on by my abduction.
The water is the perfect temperature between scalding and lava and I almost wept at the pure elegance of the tub and bubbles. It’s a black marble tub that’s at least four feet wide and I can’t touch my toes to the other end. The faucets, yes there are two, are a hideous gold and I Ignored them. The soap he had thrown in was none other than the mysterious apple pie smell.
I find the bottle on a shelf next to the tub reading the label. Pear spice. So, pear not apple but how the hell could soap smell so good? It’s in a glass bottle and according to the ingredients it’s made with goat milk. I very briefly consider the possibility of it being edible.
“Fancy.” I muse putting it back.
My eyes wander around the small but spacious room. Wrought iron light fixtures hang above the double sinks in the shape of javelinas. The counter and floors are all black marble and tile, but the ceiling and the sink faucets are that same ugly gold. There’s a vent in the ceiling that I eyed for a few minutes wondering if I could fit through it.
The toilet is bland considering the extravagance surrounding it and I chuckle at the fact it has no tank on the back. The seat is in fact the only thing I could have used as a weapon. There are no shelves or cabinets and that brings to my attention that there was no towel made available to me.
My heartrate skyrockets at the realization that I also have no clothes other than the ones I had taken off. Surely he doesn't think I'm going back out there naked? I’m actually living the dreaded scenario of having to fight off an attacker while naked. Because that's exactly what will happen if he thinks I’m parading around in my birthday best for his crazy ass to see.
I'm not a prude but even with my crooked moral compass I know that would only end badly for me. I scrub my skin and hair ready to keep my mind off of my nearing doom. The rats in my thick brown hair have me once again cursing my decision not to cut it. The ends rest just below my shoulder blades and that's the longest it has ever been.