Once we hit the entry, the staff separated us. Jason was taken to the main study, where a nurse was waiting to change his bandages. I was taken into my salon and placed over a plastic sheet before my leather day suit was cut off me. After the heat it was exposed to, cutting it off me seemed to be the most efficient means of escape.
Clara was the first to notice my new silk-wrapped ring. She looked at me for permission to take it off my hand.
“The things we promise to be let out of the stables,” I laughed, running my hands through my brittle hair. One of the new staff noticed my dry baked curls and reached out to touch them. She pulled her hand back quickly. “I'm sorry, may I touch your hair?” she asked timidly.
“Please do, whatever we need to do so I can get in that tub,” I said, pointing towards the brightly lit bathroom. “I feel like I will never be clean again,” I laughed. The small gathering of women laughed nervously with me.
I could see them all cringe when a new bruise or scrape was found. My neck looked more purple than black today, but it was still evident that large hands almost squeezed the life out of me.
The nurse was called in to confirm my condition didn't require medical help. She suggested an IV for dehydration. Clara, reading my face, assured the nurse I would be given plenty of fluids over the next few days. After being thoroughly inspected, I was helped into a heated tub of water. The appliance was big enough for two people and had a heater and a filter to keep the water clean and warm.
Clara wrapped my remaining hair in a thick conditioning pack and helped me scrub the first layer of seabed grime off my skin.
“Sienna, in the kitchen, has a sister that cuts hair downtown professionally. We have called for her to come by and trim your hair,” Clara explained cheerfully. “Also, I spoke to your mother. She's not entirely happy you're staying with us tonight, but with the media surrounding both houses, I don't see a better option.”
“That's a relief. Jason wanted to follow me home, but his arm needs medical attention, he needs sleep and food. Clara, how was he allowed to live this way?” I asked, placing my soapy hand on the back of hers.
Clara looked at the floor and shook her head. “He's a grown man. We can't force him to our will like we could a child,” she explained almost in tears. “I'm so glad you are home, Karine. I don't know how many more days he would have existed like this.”
“Clara, I know you are charged with watching over me while I'm here. I will be sleeping in his bed tonight,” I explained quietly. “I can't imagine he will allow anything less, but I won't have him sleep on the floor outside my door.” Clara nodded her head in agreement and patted my arm.
“We won't mention this arrangement to anyone. I'll have a bed brought to your room for appearance's sake. And we won't speak of it again,” Clara outlined her simple plan and then left me alone to soak.
After a few minutes, I could hear the rustling of heavy objects in the room next to me. It didn't take Clara long to deploy her camouflage. We were both concerned with Jason's wellbeing. The properness and traditions society dictated didn't seem the least bit important to me anymore. Clara, a woman I thought cared too much about what others think, apparently agreed with me.
The sound of the filter on the tub humming to life startled me back to the present. I made one more attempt to scrub away my dead skin before shaving my legs and rinsing out my hair one last time. A nice young woman was brought in to cut the charred ends of my hair away. My traditional waist-length curls were reduced to a mid-back length, rounded end shag. The cut looked surprisingly good, considering how much-burnt hair was left on the floor when the stylist finished.
I was finally left alone, but I couldn't bring myself to cry. I was so happy to be alive. I couldn’t lament any of my recent misfortunes. I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and began reading the instructions on the arnica cream package left out to heal my bruises. Walking into my room, I found Jason waiting for me.
He sat on the end of the newly made bed, his hair still damp, dressed in only a pair of blue pajama pants, and a white bandage that went from his wrist to his bicep. He looked up at me with a blank stare while twirling Zeke's family ring around his finger.
I took a deep breath and decided the only thing I could do was calmly tell him the truth.
STARK REALITY
“I can imagine what you must think.” I grabbed my towel and tightened it around my chest. With my hair up in a towel too, there was no way to hide my colorful bruised neck.
“Can you explain...?” Jason whispered. His voice was strained. He stared at me, and I could see the pity in his eyes turn to rage. “I want to know who left those marks on you, Karine.”
“It was the same young man who shot at you that night. I wanted to provoke him. See how much of the Red rumors were true. If they were going to kill us, I wanted to die where you could find my body.”
“Don't,” Jason held out his bandaged arm. “Don't say that to me.” He held out the ring and grabbed a bundle of chain from the middle of the bed. “What are these?”
“The ring is from the Prowe family. They claimed me for their son, and he helped me get back home.
