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.I haven’t had the chance to experience most things yet, thanks to the stupid gunshot in the shoulder, but I’m definitely attempting a shower today, and perhaps a chocolate cookie or two.Okay, definitely two.Of course the medical equipment is what saved both me and James—well, and Becky, of course.Emily told me how she helped Becky stitch me up, not even thinking about all the blood.She seems happy, and eager to learn, and Becky seems happy to have someone to help her—someone who wants to be here.They make a great little team.“Well, I’m hoping that you’re here to help me get out of bed.I want a shower and some food, and then I want to see this place for myself.I might need some help, though.”Emily smiles happily.“Sure.”She helps me up and out of bed, and carefully we make our way to some shower cubicles in another room, while she holds the back of my hospital gown together to hide my modesty.She helps me undress right down to my shabby, graying underwear, and I hear her gasp as she steps back, examining my body with a pained expression.I look down and see the scars and bruises across my body, marks from the fall, from fighting deaders, from fighting the Forgotten.Scars from surviving, I guess.I reach out, take her chin gently in my hand, and tilt her face up to mine.“It’s okay,” I whisper.She looks at me with tears in her eyes.“But, Nina…” Her hand reaches out and touches one of the deeper scars across my stomach, her finger tracing the jagged red line.I smile at her.“I remember reading a quote once.It was something like ‘your body is not ruined, you’re a goddamn tiger who earned her stripes.’ These marks,” I take her hand in mine, “these are my stripes, Emily, and these are my proof that I survived.” I turn around, tears in my eyes.“They’re the proof that no matter what or who tried to kill me, tried to take away who I am, I survived it.” I turn back to her.“I’m not going anywhere.”She smiles back, her eyes warily gazing over the burn marks on my thighs and the rings around my wrists.She looks back at me somewhat more satisfied, nods her head firmly, and steps back.“The water doesn’t stay hot for long.Do you need me to help wash your hair?” she asks.“Help me untie it.I should be able to do the rest.”She does as I ask and then she helps me to wrap Saran Wrap tightly over the top of the bandage on my shoulder.I wince—it stings like a bitch—but she does a good job of it.“I’ll be outside.” She turns to leave.“There’s some things for you near the sink.”I take a minute to examine the array of bottles—shampoos and body washes of all different scents—before picking the ones I want.I strip out of my dirty underwear and turn on the shower.I stare mesmerized for a second or two.It all seems so surreal: showers, shampoos.I stand underneath the water as it pounds my body, the heat barely noticeable, yet it’s the most delicious and delectable feeling I’ve had for as far back as I can remember.I even sigh loudly.The dirt pours away from me in rivers of black and brown; lumps of things that I don’t even want to think about drain away.I try to keep my shoulder out of the water as much as possible, even though it’s wrapped in the Saran Wrap.I grab a bottle of shampoo with my good hand, squeeze a good amount on my head, and begin to scrub it into my scalp.I rub until my fingers feel sore, and then I tip my head back and rinse the dirty suds away, taking a second to delight in the feel of warm…ish water running over my body.I grab a second bottle and squeeze the creamy orange liquid onto my hand, and gently rub it over my bruised and battered body.I rub every curve, crack, and part of myself that I can find, and as the water turns an icy cold, I quickly wash away the dirty bubbles.I still find it therapeutic, even with the cold water, as if washing away the past couple of years will somehow make it easier.With every body part cleansed I feel better, stronger, and more like myself.Less a victim and more a warrior—perhaps truly believing the words I said to Emily.When I can’t take the cold any longer, I turn the shower off and wrap a towel around myself clumsily, making sure to dry my shoulder as I carefully unwrap the Saran Wrap from my bandage.It’s a little damp, and I’m sure Becky will flip out about it, but it’s not so bad.I step toward a mirror on the opposite side of the room and stare at my reflection.I’m almost unrecognizable from the woman I was before the apocalypse.I squeeze toothpaste onto a toothbrush that was left for me, and I scrub until all I can taste is blood mixed with mint [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.I haven’t had the chance to experience most things yet, thanks to the stupid gunshot in the shoulder, but I’m definitely attempting a shower today, and perhaps a chocolate cookie or two.Okay, definitely two.Of course the medical equipment is what saved both me and James—well, and Becky, of course.Emily told me how she helped Becky stitch me up, not even thinking about all the blood.She seems happy, and eager to learn, and Becky seems happy to have someone to help her—someone who wants to be here.They make a great little team.“Well, I’m hoping that you’re here to help me get out of bed.I want a shower and some food, and then I want to see this place for myself.I might need some help, though.”Emily smiles happily.“Sure.”She helps me up and out of bed, and carefully we make our way to some shower cubicles in another room, while she holds the back of my hospital gown together to hide my modesty.She helps me undress right down to my shabby, graying underwear, and I hear her gasp as she steps back, examining my body with a pained expression.I look down and see the scars and bruises across my body, marks from the fall, from fighting deaders, from fighting the Forgotten.Scars from surviving, I guess.I reach out, take her chin gently in my hand, and tilt her face up to mine.“It’s okay,” I whisper.She looks at me with tears in her eyes.“But, Nina…” Her hand reaches out and touches one of the deeper scars across my stomach, her finger tracing the jagged red line.I smile at her.“I remember reading a quote once.It was something like ‘your body is not ruined, you’re a goddamn tiger who earned her stripes.’ These marks,” I take her hand in mine, “these are my stripes, Emily, and these are my proof that I survived.” I turn around, tears in my eyes.“They’re the proof that no matter what or who tried to kill me, tried to take away who I am, I survived it.” I turn back to her.“I’m not going anywhere.”She smiles back, her eyes warily gazing over the burn marks on my thighs and the rings around my wrists.She looks back at me somewhat more satisfied, nods her head firmly, and steps back.“The water doesn’t stay hot for long.Do you need me to help wash your hair?” she asks.“Help me untie it.I should be able to do the rest.”She does as I ask and then she helps me to wrap Saran Wrap tightly over the top of the bandage on my shoulder.I wince—it stings like a bitch—but she does a good job of it.“I’ll be outside.” She turns to leave.“There’s some things for you near the sink.”I take a minute to examine the array of bottles—shampoos and body washes of all different scents—before picking the ones I want.I strip out of my dirty underwear and turn on the shower.I stare mesmerized for a second or two.It all seems so surreal: showers, shampoos.I stand underneath the water as it pounds my body, the heat barely noticeable, yet it’s the most delicious and delectable feeling I’ve had for as far back as I can remember.I even sigh loudly.The dirt pours away from me in rivers of black and brown; lumps of things that I don’t even want to think about drain away.I try to keep my shoulder out of the water as much as possible, even though it’s wrapped in the Saran Wrap.I grab a bottle of shampoo with my good hand, squeeze a good amount on my head, and begin to scrub it into my scalp.I rub until my fingers feel sore, and then I tip my head back and rinse the dirty suds away, taking a second to delight in the feel of warm…ish water running over my body.I grab a second bottle and squeeze the creamy orange liquid onto my hand, and gently rub it over my bruised and battered body.I rub every curve, crack, and part of myself that I can find, and as the water turns an icy cold, I quickly wash away the dirty bubbles.I still find it therapeutic, even with the cold water, as if washing away the past couple of years will somehow make it easier.With every body part cleansed I feel better, stronger, and more like myself.Less a victim and more a warrior—perhaps truly believing the words I said to Emily.When I can’t take the cold any longer, I turn the shower off and wrap a towel around myself clumsily, making sure to dry my shoulder as I carefully unwrap the Saran Wrap from my bandage.It’s a little damp, and I’m sure Becky will flip out about it, but it’s not so bad.I step toward a mirror on the opposite side of the room and stare at my reflection.I’m almost unrecognizable from the woman I was before the apocalypse.I squeeze toothpaste onto a toothbrush that was left for me, and I scrub until all I can taste is blood mixed with mint [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]