PHOEBE
Phoebe glanced at him as he spoke, frankly a bit surprised he was still there, the tiniest hints of what would be a roaring fire just beginning to grow amongst the dried logs. He had prepared the shower for her? Why? He felt duty bound to Lusea so why was he trying so hard with her? But she merely nodded, shuffling off to the bathroom. Pim sat himself outside the door, guarding it in a way.
The midwife made short work of removing the rags that covered her frame, much skinnier than it had been. Nothing like Loren’s wasted away appearance, but certainly lacking a healthy weight. Stepping under the stream of hot water she merely stood for a while, letting the water scald her skin and wash away the visible signs of her sins. But she could still feel it, she could still feel the harm she had done. Phoebe grabbed her soap and a scrub brush, lathering it up and scrubbing her skin with all her strength, desperate to be rid of the feel of blood and death and violence she had wreaked upon the world and her friend. It was painful, the bristles and soap and hot water stinging her skin and still she felt awash in shame.
Tears threatened to rise in her eyes but she forced them down, not wanting the black streaks to mar her attempt innocence.
She stayed until the water began to cool, only then daring to step out and dry herself. Glancing in her mirror she saw her skin near glowing in shades of pink and red, scrubbed near raw in places. But it wasn’t enough. Quickly she threw on a dress that now was far too big on her sickly-think form, stepping back out without caring that her now clean hair dripped water down her back.
The midwife made short work of removing the rags that covered her frame, much skinnier than it had been. Nothing like Loren’s wasted away appearance, but certainly lacking a healthy weight. Stepping under the stream of hot water she merely stood for a while, letting the water scald her skin and wash away the visible signs of her sins. But she could still feel it, she could still feel the harm she had done. Phoebe grabbed her soap and a scrub brush, lathering it up and scrubbing her skin with all her strength, desperate to be rid of the feel of blood and death and violence she had wreaked upon the world and her friend. It was painful, the bristles and soap and hot water stinging her skin and still she felt awash in shame.
Tears threatened to rise in her eyes but she forced them down, not wanting the black streaks to mar her attempt innocence.
She stayed until the water began to cool, only then daring to step out and dry herself. Glancing in her mirror she saw her skin near glowing in shades of pink and red, scrubbed near raw in places. But it wasn’t enough. Quickly she threw on a dress that now was far too big on her sickly-think form, stepping back out without caring that her now clean hair dripped water down her back.
When dark creeps in and eats the light
Bury your fears on sorry night
For in the winter's darkest hours
Comes the feasting of the Vours
No one can see it, the life they stole
Your body's here but not your soul
