Sweet Little Lies

Chapter Eighty-Three

Finn let the hot water hit his skin as he stood under the shower. Steam billowed out of the shower, the high temperature turning parts of his skin red. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he was by himself. The first time he was alone with just his thoughts.

He felt raw and cut open, a sudden pain lancing through him. It wasn't physical. There was nothing wrong physically, but the pain ran deep. It sliced every nerve, igniting a blaze of torment.

Finn stared at his hands, bloodless, shaking. With the amount of pain running through him, he should be covered in blood. He should be leaking from wounds all over his unmarked skin. But there was nothing. Nothing to show for his sudden agony.

The skin of his forearms hit the tile wall of the shower, muscles and tendons clenching as he forced himself to stay upright. Water tore down his back, slapping the ground once it finished its course.

The sound of it split his head. Every droplet of water felt like a needle against his skin. All of it was too much. Every sense was going haywire.

Finn tried to breathe, but the hot, steamy air refused to go into his lungs. Suddenly, it was too hot. He turned the knob fast, shutting off the water. But no relief came.

Stumbling out of the shower, Finn grasped for a clean towel, bringing it to his face first. He pressed the terry cloth to him, feeling the pressure.

There was no telling how long he did this, bent over at the waist, resting his elbows on the cold marble countertop. His body dried, small pools of water around his feet. Perspiration kept his skin damp, however.

He breathed through the towel forcefully, trying to gather his wits about him, but his body was still aching. It was in his bones, exhausting them to near collapse. His knees shook from keeping himself standing, his feet felt heavy against the hard flat surface of the floor. He was forced to fist the towel in his hands, mouth opening in a silent shout. All he wanted to do was let it out - let whatever this was out. But it just wouldn't budge.

It stayed rooted in him, burrowing so deep Finn wasn't sure it would ever go away.

A knock sounded on the door. He let out a shaky breath and turned his head to the side so he could say, "I'll be out in a moment."

His arms were weak as he pushed himself up. His hair was still damp and all over the place. Chest and shoulders were red from the scorched water. But it was his eyes that caught his attention. Dull and hazy, almost like they were unfocused on the reality around them.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath. Closing his eyes, he dried his hair with the towel quickly and tied it around his waist. His hand twisted the faucet on and he splashed some cold water on his face. It shocked him out of whatever it was that he was feeling, although the pain was still heavy under his skin.

Drying his face, he avoided looking at himself in the mirror and went to the door. Keeping his head down, he opened it. "Sorry, it's all yours." Then he tried to move past the figure waiting outside.

A small hand reached out and grabbed his elbow. "Finn."

He focused on her face, clarity starting to ring true to him. "Abby?"

Abigail frowned up at him, concern etched into her features. It was a common look from her, always having to watch out for him. It was part of her job in the little pack he had formed over the years. Her by his side making sure he didn't fuck anything up.

"C'mere." She said quietly, tugging him down the hall, away from the stairs where they could hear the others speaking.

Willow's place was big. Several guest bedrooms available at all times, including the one she left open for him. There were many nights after drinking at a club or after a particularly grueling fight at the hollow that Finn simply didn't want to make the trek all the way home. So, he ended up here. She lived closer to downtown than he did, and he had a key so it was easy.