Breathing a heavy and relieved sigh, Olivia let her shoulders relax and pressed her damp forehead against the cool floor. Her worry and regret had been steadily building until she had all but convinced herself that the ring must have disappeared into a vent and she would never find it. But she had found it, here under her bureau, half-obscured by darkness and dustbunnies. She stretched her arm into the narrow space, fishing and scrabbling with her fingers until they touched metal and she dragged her prize back into the light. Clutching it in her fist, Olivia reached for her bed for support as she struggled back to her feet. She sat on the mattress, glad that the search was over and she could give her sore knees a rest. She had been scouring the apartment for half an hour on all fours and she was tired, sweaty and grimy. Holding the ring between her thumb and forefinger, she blew the dust and grit away, rubbing at tiny specks until it was as shiny as before. She admired it for a long moment and then slid it onto her bedside table. She would find a safe place for it later. For now, she needed a bath.
Wandering through her parents' house, Alex methodically switched every light switch and lamp off. The house was perfectly quiet at last. Her parents were out to dinner and Alex had the house to herself. Not that setting herself up for a relaxing evening had been an easy task. Her mother had coaxed and wheedled to get Alex to accompany them, grudgingly relenting only when Bill had intervened on his daughter's behalf. Even so, Kathleen had busied herself with seeing to her daughter's comfort, needless as her efforts were, setting out items for her dinner, explaining and re-explaining how to use the television remote, reminding her that the bathtub upstairs was equipped with massaging jets. Alex reminded her mother that they would only be gone for an hour or two and that she was, in fact, able to care for herself with at least some degree of competency. She had tried to keep her cool but, still, she felt smothered and petulant. Like a child. But her parents had departed at last and the feeling had passed. She turned on a single lamp and settled down in the dim living room, a book on her lap and a sense of peace soothing her thoughts.
Now this, Olivia thought, this was the definition of peace. She slid deeper into the hot water until it lapped at her chin. She cracked her eyes open and looked at her knees as they stuck above the surface of the water. They were a safe place to start, relatively unscarred and in good condition. In the steamy security of her bathroom, Olivia wanted to finally study her changed body in depth. It was an activity she had avoided, consciously and unconsciously, in the past months. She had tended to change clothes in stages, never baring her whole body at once, and in the corner of her bedroom where she would not catch glimpses of herself in a mirror. When she bathed or showered, she did so in the dark or with a sopping towel wrapped around her body. But this time was different. She was alone.
Without Alex's habit of hovering, loving as it was, Olivia felt more at ease to confront her emotions. She was less frightened of seeing the damage than she was of upsetting Alex by her reaction. Crying over her ruined feet and mutilated breasts made Alex cry too or, worse, made her put on that falsely strong smile and begin with her litany of trite comforts. Olivia hated that. She loved Alex but hated her efforts to assure Olivia that everything would be alright. It wouldn't be alright, not like it was before. She would learn to live with it; to some extent, she already had. But, first, she had to rebuild her own strength and confidence. To do that, she had to be free of worrying about Alex. Just for a little while.
Alex read absentmindedly, her eyes moving over the lines of text though the meaning wasn't transmitted to the higher levels of her mind. Rather, her thoughts were largely preoccupied with the intense pressure she had felt under her mother's oppressive care and the implications of that feeling. Her mother had been well intentioned. After all, she loved her daughter and only wanted to care for her. But Alex had squirmed under her gaze, wishing only to be left free and in peace. With a sinking heart, Alex reflected on how her life with Olivia had proceeded over the past months.
The relationship between Kathleen and her daughter and Alex and her girlfriend were mirror images, equal but not superimposable. Kathleen hovered and helped; Alex did the same. Kathleen adored her child; Alex loved Olivia. Alex chafed uncomfortably when her mother insisted on staying close by and doting. Now she wondered if Olivia had the same feelings of unwanted childishness when Alex was at her side. She wondered if Olivia's plea for her to leave was her own fault.
Hefting her feet out of the water, Olivia rested her heels on the tub's porcelain edge, the better to see the shape and color of the lurid scars. She hadn't looked at them like this since the first time they had released her from the cot after inflicting the damage. It was less traumatic now. There was no blood, no torturing metal. There was only gnarled flesh and strangely knitted bones. She could see the marks of stitches, where the doctors had performed quick repairs, the emergency of her condition at that time precluding any more permanent solution. They had assured her that the efforts of an orthopedic surgeon would significantly reduce the effects of the maiming, as soon as she was well enough to endure it. Alex had assured her that it wouldn't be long now. But still, Olivia wanted to see. She never wanted to forget the extent of the hatred that those men had for her and for all women. She never wanted to allow her own hatred to die out.
She studied the scars she could with her eyes, memorizing every ghastly red bump and welt. Those she could not see, she mapped with her fingertips. She traced the ruinous whip marks between her legs and on the thin skin of her thighs. She palmed her breasts at first, reconciling her memory with the sensations of the present. The pervasive and complete warmth of the water helped to mute the shivers of terror and hate that tingled along her spine and in her fingertips. It washed away the few salty tears that dripped onto her cheeks and trickled to her jaw. Stretching her lips in a grin of grating resentment and determination, Olivia drew her hands away to touch her breasts with more sensitive fingers. Anger burned her remembered fear to ash and then, like a candle in a jar, the lick of flame flared and disappeared into a sinuous wisp of smoke. Her hands fell back into the water with little splashes. Her head fell back with a little thump. She began to sob.
