Chapter 20

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My alarm blares and a small swoosh shadows it as I groggily reach for the OFF button cautiously and find the shield thingy is down. My back aches, the wound throbbing with every little movement making me groan, shakily standing, my knees wobbling together as I stagger forward. Connor is already standing beside me, holding an arm out to assist me which I pretend not to notice while I attempt to sort out my balance issues. He smiles awkwardly while I remain stoic and eye him coolly, shifting my weight around until I feel stable.

"Good morning."

Trying to figure out the best way to convey my displeasure, I roll my eyes and yawn loudly in his face, making sure he can smell my morning breathe; if I have to suffer, so does he.

"Morning."

He grimaces and looks over at the couch in a polite attempt to avoid my gross breath, providing me with a perfect opportunity. Ha! With a burst of speed, I sprint into the bathroom and lock the door before he has noticed, steadying myself against the door. Glowing triumphantly, I grin to myself and quickly turn to lock the other, throwing myself forward and colliding into something hard. Startled, I smack my face into what feels like bone and stumble back ungracefully, almost losing my balance as my vision swims. A hand grabs my wrist, steadying me as I open my eyes to see a smirking Connor, his blue eyes twinkling, almost as if he's enjoying this.

"Come on, Troy. You couldn't possibly think I'd fall for that again, could you?"

I glare at him and look at the floor, my face flushing red knowing that he won't leave so I can shower in peace. Disgruntled but uncertain how I could make him leave with my current injury, I sigh and frown, discomfort and apprehension flooding my mind.

"Fine, if you won't let me shower in peace, at least promise you'll look away and keep your eyes shut."

He nods and sits down on the floor in front of the shower, facing away from me and right in front of the countertops. I frown, recognizing what it is he is doing. Dang, he's smart- this way I'd have to get past him if I try to escape and he knows I'm not going to do that with the chance of him being scarred for life, though to be honest, if it did scar him, I might be up to it. Just kidding, that would be nasty, I'd much rather break his arm, but first, I really need a shower. Turning the water on to a warm temperature, I strip with a little difficulty due to my war injury and unwrap it, climbing into the shower. As quickly as I can, I clean myself, washing away every bit of blood and dirt from my body, watching the water change from black to red to clear as it flows off my skin. Much to my disdain, the water stings the entire time, pounding the freshly forming scabs as I scrub, doing my best to keep from crying out in pain.

The moment I am done, I turn off the water, pulling my towel inside the shower and exit the shower with my towel wrapped securely around my body. I cast my eyes sideways as I walk towards the front of the bathroom where Connor gets to his feet.

"Connor, your turn."

Uncertain what to do with myself, I crouch in the corner covering my eyes as I can hear what sounds like his stripping before the water begins running again, my eyes squeezed tightly together and shielded with my hands. Not taking any chances of accidentally seeing something! Nope! This is not going to turn out like one of those cliché scenes in a book! Heck nah!

The water turns off and the sliding door opens as my mind continues to wander, analyzing my pain tolerance. Ok, am I missing something here or what? Aren't bullets supposed to hurt more and take longer to heal? I mean, I know I heal quickly, but the day after I got shot, I completely forgot it had happened, but I get stabbed and now, oh no! The pain! I am dying! What kind of backwards bull crap is this?

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