The Lucky Ones - One - Naked
"Every time it rains, you're here in my head."
- Kate Bush
Disgusting cold water swallowed me, as I sunk deep into the tub and tried to wash everything away. Oh, if only that were possible. If only there was some kind of miracle drug one could take to lose everything they hated. I'd love that.
I fumbled underneath the calm blue waves for the dying bar of soap resting somewhere beneath me. When I felt it, I slowly massaged it. I could feel the dents being created. I picked it up and slowly squished it in my hands as thick pieces of ivory pushed through my fingers. I felt that the soap has soaked me up. It couldn't understand me, so it collapsed.
I don't blame it.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and smiled at the thought of being able to leave this place. I'd run to a location where I can bathe in warm water nightly; where the soap won't crumble beneath me, to a place where I wouldn't be thought of as "Faye the bitch".
I still dream, but I only wake up crying.
Of course, having someone to love couldn't hurt either. I wish there was someone who would lie beside me. I yearn for anyone's fingertips to run along the curves of my body and not be frightened if I started to cry. I want to sleep beside this man and feel perfect, only to wake up in the morning and hate the world all over again. That wouldn't matter anymore, because he'd hate the world with me.
There was a loud impatient knock at the door which interrupted my train of thought.
I slammed my hand on the side of the tub. "What do you want?!"
"You're not the only one on this ship, Faye."
It was Spike. I couldn't name the numerous ways I've wanted to throw this man against the wall and kick him until he pleaded for me to stop. He thought of me as nothing.
Trying to ignore him, I closed my eyes and settled back down into the water. I tried to relax, thought how does one relax in ice?
"Damn it, Faye!"
His voice was cruel.
"I heard you Spike; I'll be out in a minute! Jesus."
He finally gave up and walked away. I listened for his echoing footsteps, and when they were inaudible, I stepped out of the tub and stared down at the water I have contaminated. My reflection looked muddy.
My hair strands dripped cold water down the side of my face, which trickled from my chin and died on my breasts. I felt so unholy and unwomanly in this state. Blinking at my reflection, and flinching when the water swims down the drain I think to myself. How is it possible to ever feel pretty? It hurts, sometimes.
Clutching the yellow towel around my body, I stepped into the living room and hid behind the wall for awhile. I saw Spike sitting on the couch eating whatever Jet throws at him. He shuffled through the green bell peppers angrily and examined everything before placing it into his mouth.
That's how it was with Spike. He needed everything to be so perfect; a nitpicker.
His long slender fingers grasped the two wooden chopsticks carefully, whilst his other large hand held the container of food. His reddish-brown eyes encircled the vegetables. The food was burnt. He ate it anyway.
A piece of dark green hair dangled freely out of place and I suddenly had the urge to comb it down for him; to run my fingers against his scalp and tell him that I was finished with my bath.
But wait, who was I kidding? He'd probably only push me away and take his dish to the kitchen.
Walking lazily past the couch and onto my room he spoke to me with his mouth full of chewed peppers.
"You better have left the tub clean."
I paused. I could've lost it right then and there. Today, I wasn't feeling so well, but I doubt anyone could tell. I bit my lip and replied.
"You don't deserve what's clean."
With that, I entered my room, flung off my towel and plopped down naked on my dead mattress. I wondered what he thought when I said that, but then I remembered that I didn't care.
The ship was hot, and because of the remaining water droplets on my body, I couldn't tell if I was sweating or not. A strange feeling of emotion rushed over me, and for no reason at all I huddled up and started to cry. I didn't know what the tears were for. I guess it was just the simple fact that I was tired of being alone. Of being doubted all the time. I was tired of being Faye Valentine.