S I X T E E N - The Spiraling Fall

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This chapter is dedicated to @wrightstory, a wonderful friend to have on your corner. Feel free to check out her poems and a few of her books titled Someone Hiding in the Shadows, and Four Ladybirds, a Tom Tom and not a Very Fast Car! Thanks for encouraging me to continue writing. 


Chapter Sixteen

Steam had collected on the bathroom mirror. Josslyn swipes it clean and analyzes her own reflection. She feels different even though she hasn't taken on any physical changes to warrant feeling different in her own skin. This kind of change radiates from within. 

The past few hours have been the most liberating moment of her life. And to her astonishment, she survived. She doesn't regret returning to her past. In fact, she'd do it all over again if just to see that little girl escaping, fleeing toward freedom. Perhaps her life would have been better if she were able to have escaped when she was younger. Edwin would have looked after her. The world would take her in, be less critical of a child's confession.  She shoves the thought away. Life didn't turn out that way, and it's useless to dwell on what could be.

Wearing her ugliest ankle length granny nightgown, she steps out of the bathroom. She'd chosen to bring along her ugliest pieces of garments to deter Wyatt from making any moves on her. Stopping abruptly, she touches the wooly-felt fabric. It's stiff but soft and clean against her skin. She smiles. So long - if ever - has she taken pleasure in life's littlest treasures. 

 She walks past a full length mirror and immediately traces a few steps backward to inspect herself. 

Oh lord, even this would deter Edwin.

She's an image right out of the Awkward Family Photos blog. The criss-crossing red and green flannel pattern give her a headache and most certainly confirms she did indeed buy this at a thrift shop. She groans. Wyatt's right. She's in dire need of a wardrobe upgrade. If What Not To Wear is still airing, he'd probably nominate her into the show.

Never had she ever considered that her fashion would make a statement. It never seemed to bother Edwin but he is invisible so he's never cared much for fashion in the first place. Further more, she grew up in tattered clothing. She's accustomed to this type of, she downcasts, ugliness. 

She flinches. 

The roaring thunder literally hovers above this hotel. She peers out the window. It's mid-afternoon but the storm clouds have made it appear dark as night.

In fact, it rained so hard they couldn't drive through the blur. She'd have preferred to wait out the storm in a gas station but with all the smoke and soot clinging onto her body, she desperately needed a shower. The storm was also an escape for Wyatt who could barely keep his eyes open. The guy's been driving nearly 12 hours straight and he's fast asleep on the queen bed opposite from hers. This motel 8 is as much a pitstop for her as it is for him.

Tilting her head and crossing her arms, she observes Wyatt sleeping facedown on the bed. Her eyes trace his hands which are stuffed underneath a pillow. She trails his arms, the curves of his round biceps that attaches to his strong broad shoulders. The muscles on his back rise and fall to each deep breath. The back of his waist dips low, arching to emphasize luscious round buttocks hidden underneath a solid dark green pajama pants.

She quickly averts her eyes. Never, had she felt comfortable observing Wyatt for too long. She always felt like she was cheating on Edwin - with her eyes. It isn't the same thing as ogling over an image of Brad Pitt. Wyatt is simply...too real.

She takes comfort in knowing he's deep in sleep. Grabbing a pen from the desk, she uses it to gently lift the curtain of black hair that hides his handsome face. It felt wrong to touch him. Okay, fine, she nods and talks to herself, a pen doesn't make it any more right. But she gazes on. His long lashes curl so naturally and his bottom pout beckons for a good biting. His hairline crests perfectly in the middle, emphasizing his symmetrical features.

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