Pushing myself off the floor, I slowly rose. My legs were stiff, and wobbled beneath my weight. I had to move. I had to get dry. Get warm. I effonated to the mall, and emerged gasping inside a stall in the women’s bathroom. The stall door caught my body as I fell forward. My fingers slid down the cold metal. Pushing off the door, I righted myself. When I was ready, I unlatched the door and walked out of the stall. Three mirrors sat behind three sinks, across from three empty stalls. My hands reached out for the counter to support my weight in front of the center sink. Taking a deep breath, I straightened myself and looked in the mirror. Dark brown patches crusted over pink welts on my arms and neck. One of the lashes had ripped up to my neck and onto my cheek. I pressed my fingers to the dried blood. I couldn’t feel my own touch. The sensation registered, but it was only factual. My skin was dirty. My skin was cold.
I looked away, down at the sink and twisted the faucets. The warm water spilled out. I cupped it in my hands and washed away the signs of my torment. After I wiped off my face and arms, I staggered into the mall not caring what I looked like. That was the best I could do. People steered clear of me. My feet scraped the floor with an exhaustion that I couldn’t fight off much longer. Looking for a store, any store, I picked one and walked inside. No one approached me. None of the sales people asked me if I needed help. They seemed grateful that I didn’t want to try stuff on. Instead, I grabbed a pair of dark jeans, a blue pullover, and a black tee shirt and tossed them on the counter.
A perky blonde stifled a shocked expression when she looked up at me. I blinked once. She made no comment, just quickly tapped the keys on the cash register, and told me the price. She moved my purchases into a plastic shopping bag, while keeping her gaze off of my face as much as possible. I reached into my pocket for money I didn’t have. I used my power. Paper bills lined my pockets. I pulled out the correct amount, and slapped it down. Without waiting for change, I grabbed my bag, and walked briskly out the door and into the main corridor of the mall.
The pain hit a moment later. My jaw locked and my body tensed, as the sensation of a hot knife punctured my stomach and slid up my throat. Muscle and flesh tore in a slow line. Heat rose from my navel to my throat. My pace did not falter. The expression on my face didn’t contort with pain. My breath didn’t ring out with cries. No tears streaked my cheeks. Numbness flooded me, until the pain subsided. I could still feel the pain price, but it was like a distant memory devoid of shape, form, or meaning. I knew it was happening to me, I could feel it, but it didn’t matter.
Hastening my walk with the little strength that remained, I rounded the store corner, and walked back into the girl’s bathroom. A fluorescent light flickered to life hesitantly. There was no one in the room. Walking quickly, I shoved my hand against the door of the center stall, and latched it. Turning, I leaned back. The dried blood on my back was pulled taught and then cracked. I’d never wanted a shower so much in my life. I just stood there. Exhausted. A moment passed. Then two. I took a deep breath and reached for the bottom of my shirt. But, before I could slip it over my head, I felt his presence. The sound of metal scraping came from the door, and then his footfalls echoed toward me.
I leaned my head against the metal stall door. Fatigue clawed at me. Soon there would be no option. Soon I wouldn’t be able to maintain two feet on the floor. Locoicia sucked every drop of energy out of me. I could barely stand, never mind attempt to speak rationally enough to keep him away. I pressed my hands to my temples. I couldn’t face him now. Blinking once, I moved my hands away from my face and looked at the tiled floor.
Black boots wet with winter snow appeared at the bottom of the stall door. “I need to see you.” His words were simple and urgent. He stood with his feet apart, waiting.
I tried to mask the exhaustion in my voice. I stood, and stared at his boots. “Collin, no. Not now.” After the words slipped out of my mouth, I leaned against the door of the stall. I stared at the chipped blue paint. The door was the only thing holding me up. I was so tired. Trying to hide these things from him required more strength than I had.
Without a word, without a warning, the door I was leaning against gave way. Collin pulled it off the hinges in one tug, and I fell forward. I never really had cat-like reflexes. I was about to collide with the floor when his other arm shot out and caught me. His hands brushed my shoulders, making me stand on my own two feet again, as he released me.
The room was swaying, tilting slowly to the right. My eyelids felt like sandbags. I smirked, “That was a little bit rash. Destruction of public property and all.”
He gazed at me, but didn’t smile. “Where have you been?” His eyes slid over my body, taking in my tangled hair and the white streaks that lined my skin. I hoped he didn’t see the dried blood that caked under my clothes. “You look like hell.”
I shrugged, “Same difference.” A state of intoxicated weariness was drowning me. My muscles were protesting, threatening to stop working. But I held myself upright. After a moment, I relaxed when I didn’t feel bombarded by sensations to press my body to Collin’s. Whatever Lorren did to me seemed dormant right then. Although, Collin still looked beautiful. My eyes slid over his body, taking him in. His hair hung in soft waves, dark and wet from the snow. A black leather jacket hung opened from broad shoulders. The angle of his jaw was perfect, although it twitched as the little muscle flexed. A smile pulled the corners of my mouth, and I laughed. It was snowing.
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Don’t play with me, Ivy.” He placed the stall door on the floor and leaned it against the wall. When he turned back to me, his dark hair fell into his face. His eyes were on fire. Angry. “You’ve been fighting someone. You’re drained. And I saw you—I felt… ” His hands stretched once, and then fisted tightly. He leaned in closer to me, causing my stomach to stir. His beautiful lips curved as he bit off the words in my face. “Who hurt you?”