𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 | 𝐭𝐰𝐝 ¹

28.

   Blood and dirt bonded with the water that poured down Nicole's frame. The water in at the bottom of the shower was nothing but a dark reddish-brown. Tears brimmed Nicole's eyes as she thought about Sophia and how scared she was in the moments before her death.

   Nicole thought about the fear that plastered her eyes as she took her last breath. All of these emotions hit her at once because she had been repressing them in order to achieve her goal -- get back home.

   Nicole knew the outcome of bringing home a dead girl. She knew that there would be outlash because she couldn't protect that little girl. She tried. She really did, but that wasn't enough to bring Sophia back alive. Nicole knew that she was a failure.

   The woman slid down the back of the shower and began to bawl into her knees. Her arms encased her calves and she ignored the aching from her severely discolored and inflamed ankle.

   Nicole didn't budge when there was a soft knocking at the door. It opened and an older blonde woman walked in. "Uh, here are some clothes for you," the woman's gentle voice sounded. "Someone from your group found these for you and told me to give them to you," she said as she dropped a pair of combat boots beside the toilet. "They're about ready to have a funeral for the ones we lost. Figured you might want to be there," she murmured as she walked out of the room.

  Nicole stifled a sob at the thought of a funeral -- at the thought of putting Sophia into the ground and it was her fault. She had seen more death in the last four months than she had in her entire life. She wished that it was her that they buried in the ground and not the innocent beam of hope that everyone loved so dearly.

   Nicole slowly stood back up, using the sides of the shower as support. She finished cleaning the blood from her body and hair before she twisted the shower off. Nicole was left in the silence after that. She stood still, listening to the water drip from her body and the showerhead. With a shaky and tearful sigh, Nicole stepped out of the shower.

   She tried her best to keep weight off of her ankle as she grabbed a towel from the rack beside the toilet. She wrapped it around herself and sat down on the lid. Nicole debated whether or not to attend the funeral. She wasn't sure anyone wanted her there.

   Ever so slowly, Nicole dried herself off and began pulling on the clothes that the woman gave her. A sleeveless, baby blue button up and a pair of black jeans eventually made its way onto the curvatures of her body. "Are you decent?" Nadia's voice asked from behind the door.

   "Yeah," Nicole uttered as she began slipping a pair of socks on. Nadia entered the room holding a wrap and an ankle brace. "Oh, fan-freaking-tastic," Nicole spat out under her breath.

   "I am going to assume that you don't like being limited to one space," Nadia chuckled as she bent in front of the emotional woman. Nicole ignored her and tried to pull her sock over her swollen ankle. Nadia sighed and helped her.

   "I got it," Nicole spat out. She hated having to be taken care of. Most of her life, she was forced into drug-induced oblivion and into the arms of a man who controlled every aspect of her. After she escaped his choking grasp, she started to hate the idea of someone else taking care of her.

   "Clearly not, so shut up and let me help you," Nadia snapped back. Nicole gave her a look of loathing, but shut up. Nadia finished sliding Nicole's sock over her ankle and began to wrap it. "Try to limit how much you move around the next few days. Your swelling will go down," she told the woman before she slid the brace over it.