Months

8

"My god, you look like shit," Lavender mutters. She runs her hand through her hair and scowls. Her reflection does the same.

Why does this particular mirror seem to amplify the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her cheeks? She doesn't remember always looking so death-like. Then again, she doesn't remember the last time she spent this long in front of a mirror.

She turns the faucet in front of her and the water sputters out after a moment or two. A few splashes on her face won't fix everything, but it feels a little bit better.

After another thought, a shower seems like a good idea. A great idea. The best idea. She grabs a towel. Turns the faucet. Waits for that stupid mirror to fog up with steam.

The scalding hot water doesn't seem to bother her at all, even though it hurts. It hurts but she doesn't care enough. She remembers choking on hot water, when Maritza thought she'd play a little prank on her sister. Lavender stands there for a while, not even thinking anymore.

After a couple hundred years she shuts it off. Can't stand here forever. Kenton needs to be taken care of. Lavender wraps the towel around herself and goes for her room. She grabs some old clothes out of Mateo's trophy drawer and throws them on. The thought of wearing the clothes of some unknown ghost doesn't even cross her mind.

When she goes to check on Kenton in his room, he's already sitting up on the mattress, waiting for her. He's not exactly facing the right direction, but it's close enough.

"Took you long enough. What were you doing, crying in the mirror?" he snaps while jerking his arms. His wrists were still handcuffed in front of him, and his arms were held down with crudely wrapped rope. The leather cuffs on his ankles seem to have rubbed into his skin uncomfortably as a result of some squirming that she hadn't been there to witness.

She doesn't give him an answer, and Kenton shifts awkwardly. Instead, she nudges him with her foot. It was more of a kick, really. She not-so-gently kicks him down onto the mattress and he fights back.

"What the hell is your problem?" Kenton gripes as a greasy strand of hair falls over his blindfold. Lavender kicks him onto his side and wrinkles her nose.

"Shit, you're even worse than me."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

She kicks him again, but this time for real, and Kenton yells in pain and curls into a ball. Instead of landing another kick to his ribs, Lavender grabs him under the arms and drags him off of the mattress.

"Put me down! Put me-"

"We are NOT going through this again. Yesterday was fine, stop being a fucking drama queen."

Kenton's not convinced that she won't hurt him again, but he can't do much about it as Lavender hauls him out of the room and down the hallway. He can tell that they're past the kitchen now, so he knows she's not making him another meal. The uncertainty of where she's taking him is really what scares him, and he barely stifles that fearful whimper when the carpet turns to cold tile. Lavender lets go and drops him on the floor. Kenton squirms up against the nearest vertical surface, which has a smooth finish, and he slips down to the floor again. His keeper takes a fistful of his grimy shirt and pulls him up.

"Wait, wait, what are you doing?! Tell me what you're doing-"

"You're taking a bath." The fist holding his shirt doesn't soften up.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me. You look bad and you smell bad, so you're taking a bath."

He's still not really getting it. Lavender rolls her eyes and grabs the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to take it off, but she doesn't even raise it more than a few inches before Kenton shrieks.