think about nothing else but the feeling of water against my skin. Eventually the water runs clean. Finally I get a chance to switch off for a while. I spend far too long enjoying it.
After drying off, I find a bundle of clothes on the bed, left by Cara, the door to her bedroom closed. On top a bra that’s a little small, but passable. Sandy coloured denim pants. A white shirt trimmed in deep red slipped on next. Cara’s clothes fit me as if they were my own. Next is a pair of heavy boots, a mix of soft black leather, nylon. I have no idea how but they manage to fit me perfectly, and are instantly the comfiest things I’ve ever worn. These are some amazing boots.
Last is a soft hooded jacket and, as if to cement the ass kicking image, a pair of leather fingerless gloves, both in matching blood red. It’s almost too much.
There’s a knock on the door as I try to work out the best way to slip the soldier’s long knife I’d taken into the belt of these pants.
“Are you ok in there?” Cara calls in.
“Sure, come in,” I reply.
She opens the door and looks me up and down and smiles.
“I thought you’d look good in those gloves, but shit,” she says. “How do you like the place?”
I nod. “I love it. It’s definitely my style. I wish I could have had a place like this.”
Cara’s face beams as she says that. “It took me forever to collect this stuff. It’s not an easy task to do when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder and worried about getting captured by the government.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be,” I respond understandingly. I guess that’s the trade-off. One more moment to tie my hair up out of the way and I’m human again. Almost, at least; I can’t supress the yawn that follows.
She laughs at me. “Tired?”
“I guess so.” My body feels like its run out of energy.
She leans against the door frame to her bedroom. “We don’t have to go back downstairs.” She pauses a moment too long, watching me. I follow her eyes blink, once, twice, three times.
“You can take the bed if you want. I’ll set myself up on the couch,” she says.
“No, really, I don’t want to impose. This is your place. I’m happy to sleep on the couch.”
“It’s ok; you really look like you need a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll survive. It’s ok, I don’t mind,” I say.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I sink into the soft mattress. Then I feel the handle of the knife, still tucked into my belt, jab into my side. I’d already forgotten about it. I draw the knife out, deliberately holding its gleaming edge away from me. The inscription ‘EX VMBRA IN SOLEM’ is written along the face of the blade while there are some numbers, ‘32:40-42’ scratched near the handle.
“Woah,” Cara gasps, surprised. “Did you take that from one of the Templars? Where the hell were you hiding that? I’m not sure how I missed that on you before.”
I nod to her as I place the knife gingerly on the bed side table. Cara’s bed is so soft in comparison to the rock hard mattress I had in the cell while captured. While captured… The events of the past days, each and every little memory hit me like a sledgehammer to the face. My parents are dead. Maybe somewhere out there is a sister I never knew about. Aine is gone. I try to maintain composure, but that only lasts a second. In the end I fail miserably at trying to hold it all in. Tears flow. I’m always stronger than this. Any other day I would be. I try to apologise to Cara. It ends up sounding nothing like “I’m sorry.”
She slides onto the bed behind me, wraps her arms around me and rests her head on my shoulder. It’s such a gentle gesture, like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Nothing is said. Nothing needed to be said. I lose all sense of time; it could have been hours I spent like this without moving, in the comfort of her arms.
“Wake up, wake up.”
Cara is shaking me roughly as she sits up next to me. We must have
After drying off, I find a bundle of clothes on the bed, left by Cara, the door to her bedroom closed. On top a bra that’s a little small, but passable. Sandy coloured denim pants. A white shirt trimmed in deep red slipped on next. Cara’s clothes fit me as if they were my own. Next is a pair of heavy boots, a mix of soft black leather, nylon. I have no idea how but they manage to fit me perfectly, and are instantly the comfiest things I’ve ever worn. These are some amazing boots.
Last is a soft hooded jacket and, as if to cement the ass kicking image, a pair of leather fingerless gloves, both in matching blood red. It’s almost too much.
There’s a knock on the door as I try to work out the best way to slip the soldier’s long knife I’d taken into the belt of these pants.
“Are you ok in there?” Cara calls in.
“Sure, come in,” I reply.
She opens the door and looks me up and down and smiles.
“I thought you’d look good in those gloves, but shit,” she says. “How do you like the place?”
I nod. “I love it. It’s definitely my style. I wish I could have had a place like this.”
Cara’s face beams as she says that. “It took me forever to collect this stuff. It’s not an easy task to do when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder and worried about getting captured by the government.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be,” I respond understandingly. I guess that’s the trade-off. One more moment to tie my hair up out of the way and I’m human again. Almost, at least; I can’t supress the yawn that follows.
She laughs at me. “Tired?”
“I guess so.” My body feels like its run out of energy.
She leans against the door frame to her bedroom. “We don’t have to go back downstairs.” She pauses a moment too long, watching me. I follow her eyes blink, once, twice, three times.
“You can take the bed if you want. I’ll set myself up on the couch,” she says.
“No, really, I don’t want to impose. This is your place. I’m happy to sleep on the couch.”
“It’s ok; you really look like you need a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll survive. It’s ok, I don’t mind,” I say.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I sink into the soft mattress. Then I feel the handle of the knife, still tucked into my belt, jab into my side. I’d already forgotten about it. I draw the knife out, deliberately holding its gleaming edge away from me. The inscription ‘EX VMBRA IN SOLEM’ is written along the face of the blade while there are some numbers, ‘32:40-42’ scratched near the handle.
“Woah,” Cara gasps, surprised. “Did you take that from one of the Templars? Where the hell were you hiding that? I’m not sure how I missed that on you before.”
I nod to her as I place the knife gingerly on the bed side table. Cara’s bed is so soft in comparison to the rock hard mattress I had in the cell while captured. While captured… The events of the past days, each and every little memory hit me like a sledgehammer to the face. My parents are dead. Maybe somewhere out there is a sister I never knew about. Aine is gone. I try to maintain composure, but that only lasts a second. In the end I fail miserably at trying to hold it all in. Tears flow. I’m always stronger than this. Any other day I would be. I try to apologise to Cara. It ends up sounding nothing like “I’m sorry.”
She slides onto the bed behind me, wraps her arms around me and rests her head on my shoulder. It’s such a gentle gesture, like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Nothing is said. Nothing needed to be said. I lose all sense of time; it could have been hours I spent like this without moving, in the comfort of her arms.
“Wake up, wake up.”
Cara is shaking me roughly as she sits up next to me. We must have
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