I take off my poor excuse for a shirt and pants, remove the sewer water soaked white shoes and socks, and step into what Kimberly said was the shower. I push the button she directed me to do, and warm water starts to stream out of the ceiling of the shower. It’s amazingly refreshing after everything I’ve been through. It’s a warm summer rain shower right here in their house. I use the different buttons to dispense a liquid form of soap for my hair and massage it through all the tangles, gently untwisting the braid. When I use the soap designated to remove the dirt from my body I notice how pale and fair-skinned I really am under all the dirt. I watch as the last of the dirt circles down the drain, as if washing off the last seven years.
I press the same button I had used to turn on the water and the warm rain halts. There is a thick grey towel hanging on a metal bar and I use it to dry off. I step out of the shower and open a compartment in the stall. I expect to find a new clean ragged shirt and pair of pants but am surprised to find an odd pair of clothing. More similar to the clothes we had found in the bunker.
It appears to be a shirt and a long pair of pants, but both are made out of a stretchy fabric like the ones Leo and Kimberly were wearing. The pants are a jet black and the top is a light shade of pink. I put them on and am surprised at how well they fit. At the bottom of the compartment is a pair of long black socks with a pair of short black leather boots. I slip on the socks, lace up the boots, and pace around the stall, breaking them in.
I step back in front of the mirror and feel like an entirely different person is looking back at me. I pull on the mirror to open it as Kimberly had instructed. I scrub my teeth and brush out my long, wet, and tangled hair. The first time I have done either in a very long time.
Then, at the last minute, I see a small light reflect off the metal pair of scissors at the bottom of the cabinet. I pick them up and close the mirror, looking at my reflection once again. The only parts of me that look the same are my magnificent green eyes and my long dark hair.
Something about my hair holds too much from the past, probably because of how my mother used to braid it, and unbraid it, and then re-braid it to pass the time in the cell. I raise the scissors to my hair and snip away, watching chunk after chunk of my hair fall to the ground until my hair is cut into a sharp ‘V’ form, short by my shoulders and growing to a single point. I put the scissors down and step back to admire my work and I couldn’t be happier with the change.
I throw my hair clippings in the bin by the toilet and hang up my used towel. Then, I step out of the stall and notice everyone else has already made their way back to the dining room. I walk out of the tiled room and back down the hallway toward the sounds of laughter and soft music.
I step into the dining room and look around at the magnificent and detailed pieces in the room. The table is a grand long rectangular slab of dark polished wood and stands in the center of the room. Dark wooden chairs line all sides of the table, and there’s a royal purple carpet that runs under them. It makes my stomach turn because I know that is the color of our nation. They aren’t supposed to be supporting the King, but they do live in Sard. I assume they’ve had to put up an appearance here in the city in hopes that no one would suspect they were the ones helping the gifted escape. Still, it reminds me of the floors of the castle and I hate that I have to be in the same room as it. The walls compliment the rest of the space and are a warm yellow with large chandeliers hanging over the table.
When I step into the room, all conversation stops. I look around the room and see that everyone else is wearing similar clothing to mine except they vary in color. I look to Alexander and he motions to my hair and I realize how much of a shock it must look like.
“Just thought I needed a change,” I mumble under my breath and everyone falls back into their conversations. I make my way over to an empty chair next to Alexander and can feel his and Cooper’s stares burning into the side of my head.
“You hate it don’t you?” I ask and turn to them. They both shake their heads no and smile.
Alexander says, “I like it.”
Cooper adds, “Yeah, it gives you an edgy, fierce look.” I laugh and turn my attention back to a group of what looks like servants coming through two double doors at the back of the room. They remind me of the lower help from the castle that would work around the prison and I wonder whose house we’ve come up into. How highly ranked is Mio’s brother to live in such a magnificent home with people serving him? Each server is carrying large platters of food and I simply can’t believe my eyes. They lay the plates of food out in front of each of us. I’ve never seen this much food in one place, and I don’t even recognize half
