Luckily, some kind soul returned my clock to me after my little escapade in the captain’s quarters. It reads 3:58 a.m.
Gods!I tear at my hair and shake my head.
Sleeping is becoming increasingly more difficult. The last week spent in my room has been one isolated, hellish experience. The cold is seeping into my wet clothing without the blankets. The shivering is getting unbearable. It doesn’t take me long to decide to go shower. Hopefully, the hot water will help.
The violent shaking doesn’t subside until the steam is so thick in the small bathroom that I can hardly see.
Erik’s soap is still here, and I notice that a bottle with a thick, creamy goop has been added to the pile of toiletries. I pick it up.
Conditioner.
I’ve seen commercials—illegal ones, of course—but I’ve seen them. This is for hair.
The hot water is just to the point of burning my skin as I squeeze the bottle, and a pile of nice-smelling stuff comes out. I don’t know what the hell this scent is. Where I come from, we use our noses to find our next meal or scout out danger. There’s nothing dangerous about this…
At least, I don’t think there is. Unsure exactly what to do, I just plop the conditioner onto my head and start moving it around.
It feels nice on my scalp.
The monotony of the rubbing, combined with how relaxed I am starting to feel, causes my mind to wander. The dream, the experience, all come crashing down on me.
The impact on my legs causes them to buckle, and I am shoved onto my bed. Hands tear at my clothes as I bite and scratch. My attempts are met with laughter, followed by the same hands clamping down on my thighs and moving up towards the apex between my legs.
He smiles up at me, and I want to throw up.
“Don’t be such a bitch, you’ll be dead soon anyway,” Conrad leers.
I open my mouth, try to scream, try to do anything, but I am still frozen. The absence of my voice is agonizing, and I start to cry—
Reality snaps back. I raise a trembling hand to my cheek and find it damp. I’ve started to cry in real life. Tears run down my face, mingling with the water from the shower. I’ve dropped to my knees, and my arms are wrapped tightly around me as I squeeze myself into the corner of the tiny shower.
Get up, Helena. GET UP!I yell at myself, trying to will away the sweat that has reappeared.
I cannot move, I cannot breathe. The pressure is building so intensely in my chest that I feel like I am moments from exploding.
A loud knock cracks through the small room. A jolt makes my spine go pin-straight, and I realize the water has gone cold.
Shit… There’s only one other person I know who uses this bathroom.I have no idea how long I’ve spent in this place.
I rinse as fast as possible, noticing that the conditioner on my scalp isn’t coming out very easily. I resolve to leave it be.
Being interrupted this early in the morning wasn’t on my pathetic agenda, and once again, I am left without a change of outfit.Damn, strike three.I wrap myself in a towel and open the door. The leftover steam billows out into the hallway. Captain Erik is slumped against his doorway, eyes closed. They snap open moments after I look at him.
His pupils dilate ever so slightly. Just as quickly, they narrow.
“Gods, did you even leave any hot water?” He waves a hand in front of him arbitrarily as if he can force the fog to evaporate.
I am still shaking, and I am sure queasy terror is written all over my face.
His expression softens as he really looks at me. It’s as though I am watching the venom peeling off his face, layer by layer.
“Good morning,” he murmurs in his least offensive tone. Something flickers in his eyes.
Pity?
I steel myself and force a casual, odious look on my face while wiping away every bit of Conrad’s presence from my mind. This human will learn his lesson for daring to pity the princess of the icy seas.
Erik’s head cocks to the side a bit. He senses this shift, too. After all the hours I’ve spent near him, I recognize the new mood blossoming on his chiseled features. It’s amused irritation.