Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep .Beep.
I groaned, slamming my fist down on the alarm clock. It was six in the morning; I’d only gotten a couple of hours of sleep. I dug my head under the pillow, trying to go back asleep.
“Oh, crap!” I cursed, jumping out of bed. I hissed in pain, feeling my shoulder pulling at the wound. I limped to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked horrible. My hair was a tangled mess, no doubt filled with knots. It was stringy and crusty with dried blood. I twisted my face into a disgusted expression. The suit was stuck to my body, with rips here and there and the back was left unzipped. I looked like I had gone through a mud pool and been attacked by a ravenous lion at the same time.
Carefully, I tried pulling off the suit, grimacing when the dried up blood refused to let go of the fabric. Once it was off, and after much difficulty, I hopped into the shower, bathing myself in the warm water. I scrubbed furiously at my skin until the red water was once again clear. That was the easy part. My hair was a whole other situation. After shampooing three times, I could still feel some of the clumps of dried blood in my hair. I let out a sigh of frustration. I would just have to deal with it.
I stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around my body securely. I saw the corner of the wet bandage on my back peeking out from the towel – a sore reminder of what had happened earlier.
I spent a long time blow drying my hair. The good part was that once my hair was dry, the dried blood began falling out. The bad part was that there was a mess of dark red solids on the floor. I wasn’t planning on cleaning it up but I ended up doing it anyways. I scrubbed my hands to wash off the gross feeling before I stepped out of the bathroom.
“Arrgh!” I screamed. I’d walked smack into Ian who was wearing a smug smile. I clutched at my towel tighter, praying that it wouldn’t fall off. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I just came to see if you needed help in the shower,” he smirked. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. He stumbled back a step. “But maybe you need more help changing,” he said, watching me as I struggled to get clothes out of the closet while keeping a hold of my towel.
“Shut up! Go away, I want to get dressed without a pervert staring,” I snapped. Ian chuckled but made no effort to leave. “Any day now, Ian,” I muttered.
I heard shuffling and was about to drop the towel when his arms wrapped around my waist. I let out a scream and elbowed him in the ribs. Ian grunted a little but didn’t let go of me. Despite the shock, I could feel the warmth of his body burning through the towel and sending fireworks dancing along my skin cells – it felt like my cells were having a party generated by Ian’s proximity.
“Is there any particular reason for why you decided to hug me while I’m changing?” I asked sarcastically, and then added, “Besides looking down my towel.”
Ian laughed and released me. I spun around to face him, still clutching the towel in my hands which had slipped down an inch. Ian stared only at my face and for that I was glad. Maybe he wasn’t all that perverted.
“Your bandages are soaking wet,” he stated. Oh, yeah, I forgot that I had those on. “Let me change them before you get dressed.”
And now I could see his sick sense of humor. He would be changing my bandages while I was covered with nothing but a towel. I sent him a disapproving frown.
Ian gathered all the stuff he needed while I took a comfortable spot on the edge of the bed, my back facing him. I dropped the towel a little lower down my back, making sure that it was still securely covering my chest. I pulled my hair over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. Ian gently peeled the bandage of my back and dried the spot.
