Redeemed

Ch. 32

I stepped into the stream. Though the water was cold, as if it had come directly from an icy mountain, I did not flinch or turn back. Goosebumps quickly covered my body, but this cold was the first real feeling I had had in many days, and I embraced it. The water came to just above my waist, and I quickly stripped, setting the sodden clothes on the bank. I crouched in the water until only my head was poking out. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the sensation of the current pressing against me.

Taking the bar of soap, I began to vigorously fight against the dirt, blood, dried food, and grime that covered me from my imprisonment.

Starting with my arms, I scrubbed the dirt away, watching it float down the stream. However, instead of white or irritated red skin appearing, an artwork of purple, blue, black, and yellow splotches appeared. Bruises, from the rock throwing and other abuse.

A normal person would turn away from the pain or complain about it, but I relished the feeling, scrubbing all the harder. The pain meant I was alive. The pain meant life was not over yet.

Grabbing hold of this feeling, I waited for my usual comfortable feeling of anger, of vengeance, to rise, but it never did. Only the pain stayed constant. For now, that was enough.

I continued washing the rest of my body, more bruises appearing. When I reached my feet, I sucked in a breath at the sharp stab of pain that raced through my body.

Sitting on a rock, I lifted a foot out of the water. What rose to greet me could hardly be called a foot. Hours of walking with no shoes followed by days of neglect and a hasty escape on the back of a horse had done no favors.

Oozing from the cracked and broken skin spilled fresh blood, coating my foot like a red slipper. Tiny rocks, thistles, and thorns stuck out amid the blood. Taking a deep breath, I started the nasty process of pulling the tiny pieces out. Some of the splinters were stuck deep, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not dig them out, so I left them.

Finally finished with one foot, I let the cold waters soak the ache and pain as I started in on the other.

Done with my feet, there was only one more area that needed to be cleaned: my face. Dried blood caked my cheeks from when the bearded man cut them, and dried food covered my hair from the time the guard threw my breakfast at me.

Dipping the bar of soap, which was very small by this time, I carefully scrubbed my face, wincing everytime I went over the slash marks. With tender fingers, I felt the wounds. By some miracle, they had scabbed over well, but I could already feel the raised skin of a scar forming. Never again would my face appear whole.

Closing my eyes, I dunked under the water, doing my best to wash away the filth coating my hair. When I could no longer feel clumps of dried food or dirt clotting it, I strode to the bank, water streaming down my naked body.

The image of a woman rising out of the water like some spirit would fit well in a fairy tale, but I am also sure that in all of those stories, the woman's body was whole and unblemished. Unlike the mess of bruises, cuts, and scars that mine had become. I had been turned into a monster. Not that I had ever cared much what my appearance was like, but now that the option of looking whole and unmarked was taken away, I missed it.

And though that thought alone should have burned me with rage, the absence of feeling was now my constant companion, as if a blanket of apathy had smothered my flames, reducing me to ash.

As promised, clean clothes were folded neatly on the bank, consisting of gray trousers, shirt, undergarments, and boots. I expected them to be big, as I guessed these were extras of Nourse's, but everything fit perfectly, even the boots. Before putting them on, I bound my feet with the extra wrapping cloth Nourse had supplied for my chest. Even with the extra protection, my feet still smarted with pain every step. Again, I embraced that pain, that feeling of life.