𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐘 ― d. grayson ¹

⤷ six

Maisie Williams had arrived into view when Dick opted to speak, announcing he would go out. The women kept their eyes on the screen, "I'm going to get some pizza. Anything on it?" Robin glanced over her shoulder and shook her head, anything she could eat was fine.

"Just don't get pineapple on it," Rachel spoke, never taking her eyes off the television, too caught up with whatever was happening in the show.

Dick sighed, taking a glance at the screen to see what could be so interesting about that program. He tapped Robin's arm with the back of his hand, getting her attention. "Don't let anyone in," he reminded her as if she needed to be told how to keep someone safe. She only nodded, deciding that arguing back about him treating her like she had no experience with this sort of thing wouldn't do any good. "I'll be right back."

"Bye," she politely said, watching him step out of the room, locking the door. She let her shoulders drop, allowing herself to be a normal person for a few minutes, she was tired of pretending to be constantly rough in front of him. He was an expert in making it seem so easy, deceiving them of his feelings. "Okay, Rachel. Don't tell Dick, but I'm gonna take a deserved shower. Hadn't taken one for two days, never went back home. It'll be quick, I promise."

"Okay, just don't sing too loud, you'll ruin the show," the girl joked, finally, a genuine, trusting smile appearing on her face.

Robin tried to sing a high note and her voice broke, making Rachel laugh at her attempt. Glad to make the girl happy for a few instants, she turned to her room and took the white towel that was folded on the foot of the bed, taking it with her inside the small bathroom.

She turned on the water and began to strip herself from her sweaty attire, wishing she had some new ones to replace them. Since the abduction, all she got to do was rinse her face, so stepping into the rain once it became warm felt like the nicest thing in the globe. Her cold feet flinched against the hot liquid dampening the ceramics, but she fought for her muscles to stay still.

Water poured down into her body, dripping down her sides and back, darkening her hair, caressing her skin. The liquid washed the burden off her shoulders, fading the thoughts in her mind into dullness. It felt good to step into the shower and feel relieved for a few instants before walking out and confronting the tragic world.

But it appeared like her mind wouldn't allow her to appreciate that short period of serenity. As her eyes shut close, images of Zachary surged into her mind, bringing the shocking episode back. It was the unpleasant feeling ever to relive her best friend's worst moments, how he looked like he was dying, hardly able to speak.

Her brain began to scream at her to acknowledge the obvious, the one thing she had been denying since she heard Marge inform the news. The one thing her heart resisted to hold onto, that hope that ignited a fire inside of her. No, he didn't die, fought Robin's conscious voice, the girl standing in the shower endorsing the statement.

Don't be stupid, he's gone, the only trace you can follow is his back to the morgue. And that's when Robin began to sob, accepting the fact that her best friend had died at the hands of the people he had denied to be taken to. His final words and she hadn't fulfilled them.

Just like that, the enjoyment of every shower got washed away like the dirt that covered her skin. She continued to wash her hair, fighting the urge to give up on doing anything at all, he wouldn't want that. Her eyes watched the blurred foam go down the drain, disappearing into the little metallic holes.

Her ears caught rattling from the other room before she even acknowledged it, transmitting an alert signal to her body. That was how she could react so quickly when Rachel's frightened voice came from the main room. At that moment, Zachary was the last thing in her mind.