l inhale heavily to self-calm and level myself out, shake my head and give myself an internal rattle to
snap out of this. I haul out an oversized night shirt that Meadow gifted me in the manor, my all-time
favorite, and underwear, and quickly strip, loving the feel of fitted soft delicate lingerie and an actual
cozy and loose t-shirt, printed with delicate pastel florals, over grey sweats any day. It's the little
things that can restore you in weird ways.
I yank out my toiletries bag and find my hairbrush, facial wipes, and all manner of self-grooming
products I left behind, as they were too heavy to lug around, and start to put myself to rights.
There's a mirror over the mantle and it's only now I can see how grubby and scruffy I look and
decide to quickly remedy it. I look like a hobo who hasn't seen water in weeks, and my hair is a dull
brown because it's so dirty.
Meadow was right though; I do look different. My hair is longer, my face slimmer, and I seem to
have aged a little in my time in the wilds. My green eyes seem brighter, the color more intense. My
skin tanned gently from being outside all the time, and I have a natural rosy glow to my cheeks,
nose, and forehead, that have brought out a few light freckles. I seem taller, but I think it's because I
stand differently now. Upright, almost proud, and the small amount of growth my hair has had,
makes all the difference. Even dirty, the layers are softer and hang around my face and past my
shoulders in a much more flattering style than how the orphanage used to cut it. I like this look, and
I might just let it grow out fully.
I clean my skin, brush out my tugs as best I can and find all manner of debris and twigs in the knots.
I feel grubby now I have clean pastel clothes against my skin and try and make myself presentable
while contemplating linking Colton to ask if he has a bathtub close by. Although it's late, and I am
tired so maybe I should just clean myself up, sleep, and worry about bathing in the morning.
It feels good to have the ability to cleanse some of the grime off with wipes and I look around for a
means to brush my teeth, as that in itself will make a huge difference to how gross I feel. I wander
around looking for a water jug, or something I could use, and stumble upon a door I previously
missed because it's stained the exact color of the wood around it. A small door in the corner, next to
the desk, that was almost completely concealed, tucked in and narrow, right at the side of the last
cupboard, that I open in hopes of finding something useful. To my delight it slides open behind the
wardrobe to reveal a tiny bathroom.
There's a shower that looks newly installed, with an array of toiletries in a basket sat within, some
towels hanging at the side, and a fluffy mat on the floor that hints this is where he gets ready most
days. The smell of sealant and paint are faint in the air, as though this was a recent conversion, and I
guess that makes sense if Colton had this room repurposed. He can get up, shower, and get ready
here without having to go find an available bathroom. There's a small wash basin, and toilet, fitted
into the space snugly, but not so much that it's crammed and I strip back off without hesitation, the
urge to jump right in, desire overtaking tiredness with a need to be clean and hygienic once more.
The outside living is great when you're outside, but once you're back among people, and
cleanliness, it really does make you feel all kinds of yuck. This right now, as I slide under hot water
from powerful jets, is as close to heaven as I've been in a while. I close my eyes and tilt my face up
at the jet, and let it wash over, cascading all my worries and aches away with the kind of goodness
only a hot shower can bring.
Hot water, soap, shampoo. It all feels amazing to be back in civilization with real home comforts. No
more river washes or using stones to scrub my clothes, and plain water to brush my teeth that
always had a faint tint of fishiness to it. I can lie to myself every day and say that I was doing great
out there and would happily have existed that way for an eternity, but one shower and it unravels all
of it. The bed calling to me, soft sheets, and springy mattresses, and being able to walk barefoot on
soft carpeted surfaces and not having to choke half to death on fire smoke to get any kind of lights
in the dark. I was never built to be truly off grid, and isolated, and being back here highlights all of
it.
I spend a good forty-five minutes scrubbing every single little inch of me and lathering up the
shower products deliciously. They smell like Colton, but I donât mind it at all. It's comforting, familiar,
much like his presence always is. He always smells good; citrus fresh, with subtle undertones of
musk, a luring heady scent that ignites so many memories of being close to him at just smelling his
products. On me it's maybe a little masculine, but it's better than woodland damp, and stale river
water. It makes me feel human again, although it does kill any urge to sleep, and revives my energy
levels which maybe I shouldn't have done.
I brush my teeth when I get out, oddly obsessed with peppermint toothpaste now I get to use it
again and redo my teeth four times just because I can. Running my tongue over shiny smooth
enamel and the breathy fresh taste when I inhale. I brush out my damp hair after I rub it almost dry
with the soft towels hanging nearby, and cover my body head to foot in the lotion from my bag that
smells like tropical fruit, in a bid to smell female again. It does a great job of blending with Coltonâs
scents and I end up sort of pineapple tinted and smelling rather edible. I redress in my underwear
and night dress quickly, and revel in how good clean feels. There's no comparison to this kind of
sensation
I feel a thousand times better and scoot back to my cupboard to find thick fluffy bed socks for my
now soft and supple feet, and climb on the bed to plait out the front of my hair to keep it off my
face. The layers are long enough now, and always falling in front of my eyes so I French plait across
the front and finish it off down one side of my face with a little elastic from my bag.
I hop up to admire myself in the mirror once more, and the difference it makes is amazing. Radiant
and squeaky clean; my skin flawless in its sun kissed beauty, and glowing. My hair is lighter, and
shinier once more, now the filth is stripped out and the natural highlights of my blonde are softly
shining through. The style framing my face and drawing attention to my now slimmer cheek bones
and long neck.
I look less child, and way more woman, and I can't help the little confidence boost it gives me. My
green eyes shining brightly back at me, despite hints of dark circles under my eyes, but overall, I
look pretty. I never used to think I was anything of the sort, but now I see it. Like finally seeing what
Colton sees, and it's not a girl anymore, or a shy feeble little no one who used to cower away from
all Santos. I now stand tall, with my chin tilted up, and there's more presence to my posture than
before. A look in my eyes that says fierce because I've lived through some amount of shit so far
already, and no one is going to push me back in the shadows. I have fuller lips, defined bone
structure, and a better length of hair that suits my face shape. I could give Carmen a run for her
money looking like this, and honestly, side by side, I put my bets on me. It's weird to finally
appreciate myself this way.
I scan the room, aware that now I have this boost I no longer want to lie on the bed and the restless
fire in me is up and revving inside. I don't want to lie down until my hair dries anyway, and I now
have the urge to go check on Sierra and see how sheâs settled. Colton looked tired, so maybe I
should offer to swap. Sit by his mom while he sleeps in here and gets some much-needed rest. I
mean, we are sharing, sort of, so maybe we could alternate and when one uses it the other stays
with Sierra, until we figure something else out.
I'm sure the only thing to sleep on in there is a couch, unless they have more beds on wheels to
give him, and I make up my mind that it's the only thing to do. He's important to the pack and I'm
not really, not right now anyway. He should rest well, in a real bed, in his own room, and I think I
want to sit by Sierra for a little while, surrounded by noise, and movement, like I was in the forest,
until I feel calmer about being back among everyday life. I need a transition period.
I check myself over once more as my night shirt slides off one shoulder, exposing soft peachy skin,
and try to figure out if this is modest enough attire to go walking around the homestead. I'm
covered, and the shirt is almost to my knees, not thin enough to see through. It's baggy, and pretty
shapeless, but it does cling to my breasts as it keeps sliding down off my left shoulder so that I
don't look frumpy in it. There's a peek of shadow from my navy underwear, but overall, it's just a
shirt, I don't need to get dressed. Not really.
With my mind made up, I pad out into the hall, clicking the door closed quietly behind me and
realize t how quiet this place is for the hour. It must be after midnight for sure, but I can't be certain,
and tiptoe down the dimly lit hall towards the door we took Sierra through earlier, so as not to
make any noise and disturb people who may be close by down here.
I know where the infirmary is, and I don't hesitate in clicking open the door and sliding into the
extra hallway that shields the infirmary from people walking in, the airy white painted box area with
vinyl grey floor. I make my way through that second door too, to the double doors with windows,
and through the glass I can see Colton sat by her side, reading a book to her. His back to me, and
tilted down towards her at his side, so I can make out his profile and the book perched on the side
of her bed.
The Doctor is asleep on a bed in the corner, looking completely comatose with a blanket thrown
over him, and the femme medic is standing off to one side at a counter and doing something. I
guess she's on night duty while Doc sleeps. There's no one else there, and the lights have been set
to low, so the only illuminations of any brightness come from the medic at her workspace. The rest
is dim, even where Colton sits, and I can barely make out the low hum of his voice as he talks to her.
I click open the door as quietly as I can and move in quickly, and silently, but he seems to know and
immediately looks my way, catching my eye and then sliding his vision up and down my with an
appreciative half smile as he does so.
You look knock out and much like the old you. Although why are you not in bed? He mind links me
and despite myself I blush and make my way to him to stand beside him at the bed. Trying to ignore
the rise in heart rate, and how overly aware I seem to be now I'm back beside him yet wearing
noticeably thinner clothing, so his body heat warms me by being close.
I couldn't sleep and figured you might want the bed and I could stay with her.
Colton shifts in his seat and turns so he faces my way and hauls over another stool off to the side to
beside him and pats it for me to sit.
âI don't want to leave her just yet, sit with me. Keep me company.â He locks a look on my face, that
half smile, the one that melts me, with those excruciating dimples which set my belly alight. I slide
onto the seat immediately, too swayed by that face, and hating myself for the obedience, knowing
it's probably stupid to cozy beside him in the middle of the night given the last time we got so close
in here, but something inside of me is urging me to stay with him. The desire is stronger than my
will, and even though I try to sit away slightly, once he turns back to his mom, his shoulder and arm
fit snugly against me and make me tremble with the effects of his touch. That hyperawareness
zooming back in, and every inch of my skin tingles in recognition of his body heat, betraying me.
"What are you reading her?â I ask to push focus on something else, pushing him out of my mind,
ignoring my traitorous body, and trying so desperately to breathe normally as my breaths shallow
out. I hush my voice so as not to disturb the sleeping Doc, and it covers how breathless I've become
in near proximity to him in such an intimate setting.
âLady Chatterley. It was her favorite book when I was young, always used to read it in the garden
while she watched me play, so I figured maybe she might like it. The Doc says she might be able to
hear us, so I don't know... it's stupid.â Colton reverts to that boy once more, the one I met and knew
all these years, and it tugs at my heart strings so deeply I just have to touch him.
âIt's not stupid. It's sweet and shows her you love her. If she is aware then it's probably nice to hear
your voice, and something like a story, instead of noise, and chaos, and feeling ignored. I can't
imagine what sheâs gone through.â The tugging of my heart pushes me to lean against him and lay
my head on his shoulder impulsively, seeking to be soothed. Fitting like he was made to have me
curl up beside him, and he readjusts his position, so I slot right in at him, resting his cheek against
the top of my head. Much like me, it seems anytime I'm close or touch him, Colton too has to
respond to the pull and always touches me back. I hate that even when we're no longer allowed or
able to be together, the need to be this way overpowers everything else. It stirs up so much ache
inside of me and brings that awful choking sensation back to my throat.
I'm torn in my sadness for Sierra and driven by the force of his pull whenever he's close. I know I'm
betraying myself by initiating the touch and I'm trying so hard to fight it. Colton is too easy, and too
inviting, like a safe harbor that calls to me, to come shelter from the cruel world, especially when I'm
feeling vulnerable, and tonight this was probably a bad idea. I haven't had any real sleep, my
emotions are all over the place, and I'm too tired to really fight any of it.
âMaybe we can stay here like this until she wakes up, and I can stop thinking or feeling and just take
a minute...â Colton's voice is as soft as mine, hushed, and his breath tickles my forehead as he utters
the words. Igniting goosebumps and all manner of crazy feelings, and thoughts, at his suggestion.
To sit here with him like this for two days and ignore everything, pretend for a little while, that this is
all we need to care about. Cuddling up doesnât sound wholly awful. It sounds like stealing last
moments before reality sets in and I can't say I'm against it. Pretending for a little while that we're
okay and there's nothing wrong with his touch.
Colton takes my silence as an agreement and reaches out and flips over the page of the book as
though he intends to start reading to her again, it just pushes me to curl up against him all the
more, settling in to listen, and mentally chastising myself to pretend this is a frozen moment. Where
nothing matters except listening to him read and watching her sleep.
âMy two favorite girls.... What more could I want?â Colton slides his arm from between us and
instead lassoes it around me and pulls me in against his chest, fully igniting that sense of safe and
secure. I melt and give up completely, sinking into his embrace and blot out all the noise coming
from my brain, all the words of warning, and refusals. I want to be held by him and cherish this
moment if I need to get through the rest of my life watching him bonded to someone else.
His hand on the book slides away from it, and places it on his moms forehead instead, gently
stroking her hair back, and then resting lightly on her hairline as he leans in to be able to see the
words on the pages. I pull my feet up on the bar of the stool and drop my knees against his,
drawing warmth in every area of my body now, sliding one arm behind him and making the most of
allowing myself to be immersed in his body. I reach out gently and touch Sierra's hand as instinct
takes over, the need to let her know I'm here too is all consuming for some unknown reason. The
sudden compulsion to connect to her and somehow complete this little circle we have going on.
"She's so very beautiful. You look like your..."
My words die on my lips as my fingers slide fully over hers and I capture her hand in mine, a
warming sensation travels up from my fingertips, and something crazy happens to me. My mind
almost jolts with the force of an electric zap, that yanks me closer to the bed and I almost tumble
out of Coltonâs arms, but he catches me, hauling me tight to him.
I gasp out loud as my brain somehow loses all control of all faculties, my vision whites, out blinding
me insanely, so that I grab hold of his leg with my one free hand to steady myself and lose all ability
to hear, feel, or see. The only sensation I'm aware of is the burning connection from Sierra's hand to
mine, and the same burn coming through Coltonâs arm around my waist. We're connected all three
of us, by touch, and it consumes me until I can't fight it in any way.
I completely blank out, losing sense of everything. Him, her, the room, it all slips away, like trying to
hold water with your fingertips, and all I can do is ride with it. I can't open my eyes, or feel my limbs,
or my body at all, like I'm a mass of unconnected thoughts with no physical form.
I try and take a breath but even that seems futile as I'm a nothingness, lingering in airless space,
finding myself in a darkness that's so eerie, yet familiar, as sounds and smells start to filter through
and jog little moments of time. Distant at first, as though travelling along a tunnel, and they're at
the other end battling through a fog. They're not the infirmary, they're something else that tugs at
my memory banks, and draws me back in time as I seem to start to fall into a memory that I never
knew I had.
The smells of summer push me into a brighter place, and I blink and slowly manage to open my
eyes, suddenly aware of touch, and sensation, as I regain full control of my limbs, but there's no one
here with me. Colton isn't here, I can't feel him, or sense him, and I seem to be in another space
entirely. In a room, lying down, one that haunts me from the past. I lift my hand to touch my face
and gauge the reality of what I'm seeing, and I'm startled to see it's so small and childlike, and blink
some more to clear the fogginess so I can look again.
Everything comes into slow focus, like a fade back in, and I know immediately where I am. The small
attic makeshift room, hastily painted pink by the family that took on a child whose own had gone to
battle. I'm back in the temporary room of my carer family, back when my parents went to war. The
cozy bed, the painted dressers, and my ragdoll, Annie, sits on the side of my bed, watching me in
my slumber. It brings back so many mixed feelings and memories, but none that I can ever recall
like this. This seems new, and yet everything is here and exactly as I remember.
It's dull, night, although it's not darkness so it must be summer, and I know I'm supposed to be
asleep, but something stirred me from my dreams of my mother and father running through our
meadow in a game of tag. My senses alerting me to the window in the far corner, and I watch in
terrified silence, of a vulnerable child, as something begins climbing in with precise movements and
silent intent. My heart hitches, racing, and pulsing so profoundly I feel it may rip from my chest.
Frozen in terror, unable to cry out for fear the monster climbing in may see me if I make a noise.
The dark shadowy figure, wearing a large, heavy, black cloak, with the hood pulled up to veil their
identity, slides up the unlocked panel of glass and slowly and carefully climbs inside, pulling their
heavy robes with them, and almost soundlessly lands on the space in front of my window. I resist
the urge to pull the covers over my face, my blood running cold with the terror of what is here,
panic overtaking me, and I go to call out for my caretaker in youthful hysteria.
"Don't be afraid, little one.... Hush now!â The female voice comes from under the hood, silencing me
mid open mouth gasp with the familiarity of that sound, and a raised palm. I'm startled into quiet,
because I know her. I recognize her smell, her sound, her presence, as it calms me and as she turns
fully towards me. All I can see are two electric blue, glowing orbs, from the dark shadow of her hood
as she looks at me directly. Her eyes mesmerizing and I've never seen such a color before.
âYou know me, Alora. I'm here to protect you. I'm Luna Sierra Santo, I come as a friend of your
mother's.... Be still. I have much to do."000000000000000