Chapter Fourteen

99 2 0
                                    

The sun was almost completely gone, when I woke up. It had been a hot day and the room was sweltering. James still lay quiet and unmoving next to me. I felt weird after our altercation yesterday. Not that I regretted anything that I had said, it just felt like I had closed a door. Could we have been friends if Clara did not die? Where would I be if she was still alive? It does not serve you well to get hung up on hypotheticals, I told myself.

We probably were not going to get back on the road for another hour or so. Plenty of time to look for water, so that I could clean myself and my clothes. A quick glance to James confirmed that he still rested. I got up quietly and left the room. The hallway was still a little lighter because the windows were not as closely shut. They could probably walk through it but it would not be pleasant. An almost routine thought of escape crossed my mind. It happened everytime I was alone. But now was not a good time. The sun would be down shortly and I would not be able to get away far enough, so that they would not find me.

Once outside, I enjoyed the last rays of sun shine. My skin had gotten just as pale as theirs. But one day, I would enjoy the sun again. I took me some time to find water and a bucket. Then I went to the car, to get the rest of my clothes. The sun had completly left when I went back to the house. It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the hallway. When they did, I nearly dropped the bucket. Dean stood motionless at the top of the stairs.

"Where have you been?" He sounded annoyed.

"I just got some water and my clothes. Since James still has to go hunting I thought I'd use the time to clean the clothes and myself a little." Not bad, I thought to myself. Not a quivver in my voice or anything.

"The upstairs bathroom has a tub, you wanna do it there?" A surprisingly helpful idea. I just nodded and started coming up the stairs. He met me halfway and took the bucket out of my hands. It was incredible, that no matter what he did, it made me nervous. Why was he nice to me now? Was he planning something?

What was even more surprising than Deans help, was the almost completely clean bathtub. Other than some dust it looked pretty good. After Dean had poured the water in, I put my hand in it and concentrated. The water slowly got warmer as my I let my powers flow into it.

"Impressive," Dean scoffed. He stood leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. The door was missing. I gave him a long look, hoping he would get the hint. But he just stood there, watching me.

"Do you mind," I hesitated already seeing a smirk appear on his lips, "do you mind giving me some private space?"

"Yes, I do. I already saw you naked, whats the difference?"

"You know there is a difference. Last time you saw me naked was a very different situation than now."

"Right, because I was fucking you. Well, if it helps you feel less awkward, I'll cladly to it again." He pushed of the doorframe and came towards me.

"No." My voice was louder than I had expected but he stopped.

"So we can agree, that I'll just stay here?" It was a rhetorical question, he had already sat down on the edge of the tub. I told myself for the one millionth time since knowing him, to ignore what he said and did. The need to clean myself was stronger than my embarrasment. I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing my naked breasts underneath. A low whistle reminded me, that he was still watching. An old bar of soap still lay next to the tub and I dropped it into the warm water. I started washing myself from head to toe. Dean did not say one word. The reflection of his face in the window confirmed, that he did not take his eyes off of me.

When I was finished with cleaning my body and he still did not say anything, I got a little worried. The past few weeks had taught me, that silence was never a good sign from Dean. He had no filter and says whatever he wants. James once told me in private, that when Dean was silent he was either resting or planning your funeral. But even without knowing that, I felt the tension in the air rising. The hairs and the back of my neck were standing up.

Dystopian DreamWhere stories live. Discover now