Rolling Stone Savior. (Discontinued)

Chapter Eight

The morning sunlight bored into my skin, creeping under my eyelids and shaking me awake. I opened my eyes and groaned, instantly taken aback even further by the strength of the light. There were no curtains in this room; that was something I was beginning to notice about Manhattan residents: they all had huge windows and never bothered to put up curtains.

I shifted over on my side, letting my face sink into the fluffy oblivion of the white sheets. My hair smothered my nose and I finally took the time to notice its horrible stench—it smelled old and a little burnt. It was a miracle that Damien even managed to come near me with that pong!

Damien.

The thought of him made my stomach shift and turn uncomfortably. He was one strange fellow; not because of his behavior, but because of what he did. Who would want to help me? I was a homeless runaway with stinky hair. Not that I wasn’t appealing—I still considered myself a little bit pretty, even without the famous hourglass shape that every man wants. But for a girl my age, I looked quite alright. Still, that couldn’t be the reason that Damien helped me, so what was it?

I pushed myself up off of the bed and began to scout the room for hygiene products. A toothbrush, maybe? And a bar of soap to shower with. Even if they were used, I wouldn’t mind.

After finding nothing of use, I left the spacious, all-white bedroom that belonged to Darrius’ mother and searched for the bathroom. He told me that his parents were gone for the weekend and were to return tomorrow, so only for today I was granted the privilege of sleeping in his mother’s bedroom. It wasn’t extravagant, just comfortable.

The house wasn’t big, just two floors and a basement. There was a bathroom on each floor, so it shouldn’t be hard for me to locate one. I walked down the hallway and made a left, now facing a closed door with a light coming from beneath it. I knocked on the door, and after receiving no response, I opened it. Apparently, the bathroom light was left on while it was uninhabited. That was a forbidden rule in my old home—if I left the light on in any room after leaving it, that was a guaranteed whooping.

I opened the faucet and splashed water on my face and scrubbed, hard, to distract myself from thoughts of my past life. If I could, I’d change my name to forget about all that I’ve gone through. Maybe I’ll change it to...I don’t know.

Fortunately, I spotted a cup filled with three toothbrushes. I picked out a pink one, and then looked under the sink for soap. All I could find was an AXE Shower Gel, for men at that. It would have to do for now. I brushed my teeth with an almost-finished tube of toothpaste (before scrubbing the toothbrush, of course) and then stripped out of the sweaty, dirty clothes I wore. It was then that I realized the beginning of a new month had probably arrived, because my period had started. Luckily I kept two tampons in my bag to use, which were in the bedroom.

I stepped into the bathtub one foot at a time, taking a few seconds to decipher the fancy mechanisms of the shower. There were three knobs on the silver wall, all of which had no indication of the purpose. I sighed and stepped completely under the showerhead now; my intention was to press one of the buttons and explore, but the water suddenly rained down on me. I looked up in shock, and then smiled, thrilled, at how perfect the temperature was.

It was automatic!

I’d only seen things like that on television, so to be showering like this was surreal. Every now and then I stepped away from the water and watched it turn off immediately, and then giggled with delight. This was exciting; the AXE gel was foreign to me, since it was a man’s smell. At least I felt clean, though! I smiled as the gel glided over my skin, making me feel squeaky clean. There was also female shampoo on the windowsill, which was watermelon scented—just what I needed to rejuvenate my hair.