Hey guys. First off, sorry for making ya'll wait so long for so little. I know there's no way to excuse myself, but I'll sure as hell try. With holidays coming I've been swamped with family, and shopping and all that jazz; and this fic has somehow fallen by the waist side. I'll explain more about the length of this chapter at the bottom, till then, enjoy!
After the Fall: Chapter Eleven, 'Morning'.
By: LolitaRed.
Rated: PG-13, I'm still cussing.
The knocking woke Beth up. She opened her eyes and looked around, confused, at her surroundings. For a fleeting moment, she forgot where she was. The vast room, filled with lavish furniture, seemed totally alien to her dusty, cramped room at Gran's. And what's worse, someone was knocking on the door. Then last night's events came rushing back as Munroe opened the door.
"Are you awake?" she said softly, peeking her head in.
"Yeah." Beth mumbled, sitting up, rumbled and dazed. The whole room was painted in a golden-orange glow coming from behind the curtains. She glanced at the eerie red alarm clock on the night stand. It was 7:00 a.m. exactly.
"I brought you some scrap clothes." said Munroe, striding into the room, arms full of different items. "I think they will fit."
Beth looked at the pile of bright cotton and denim the woman had sat on her bed. If all of the girls here were as small as the Jean chick, then they probably wouldn't.
"Thanks." she said, anyway.
"Breakfast is ready downstairs." said Munroe, heading back to the door to let her dress. "Everyone is so excited to meet you. You know, you might want to take a shower while you still have the chance. With sixteen other people living here, I'm surprised a riot hasn't broken out yet."
Beth knew she was just being polite; she knew she smelled bad, her hair was matted and greasy, and her skin practically dripped with oil. That's what a little less than two weeks of not bathing will do to you. At Gran's I wouldn't have cared, but this was different. This was her new start.
After Munroe had left, she bypassed the new-old clothes and pulled on her old jeans, (almost falling over when her foot caught in the knee hole), and walked into the hallway.
Pale, golden light filtered in from the windows. Beth looked down both ends of the hall, making sure no one was there, then dashed to the opposite door.
She flipped a switch and was blinded by the bright over head lights.
The bathroom was the size of a small locker room. It smelled clean and flowery, like aloe or something. The walls and floors were covered in magenta and ivory tile. A big bathtub stood at the far edge of the room and a tall counter, complete with vanity mirror, stood opposite. The whole room had a strange sickly-sweet, restaurant restroom- like feel.
She quickly locked the door behind her and began to strip. Instead of putting her clothes in the laundry basket by the door, she tossed them into the trash can near the tub. She sure as hell wasn't going to wear hose nasty thing again, even if they were the only things that fit her.
Stepping into the tub, she closed the magenta shower curtain and turned the water on. It all felt very weird, showering in such a new place. Besides Gran's, she'd never showered anywhere but at home. She felt tense and slightly woozy, standing there naked. Her mind drifted as she soaped her ratty hair.
What if someone was watching her right now? What if someone came in to use the toilet while she was still there?
Her overactive mind wandered back to the dream she'd had. It was one of those vivid, stupid, and oddly symbolic dreams that plague a person's teenage years; set in her old house in Kentucky.
She had drifted through the drab, grey home, room by room. Logan was in her bedroom, asleep, with a cowboy hat pushed down over his face. Xavier was in the living room, sitting in his wheelchair, dressed like an overgrown Baby New Years, (bonnet and all).
So far, all of them had been very somber and silent, and gave her a sense of foreboding. Then she went into the kitchen and found Munroe at the table. The woman was dressed like a thinner Aunt Jemima, she even had a red handkerchief wrapped around her tower of white hair. Dream-Munroe had opened her mouth to say something but instead of words, the sound of knocking came out of her mouth. This was when Beth woke up.
Turning of the water, she grabbed one of the purple towels hanging on the golden rack and wrapped it around her big body.
She surveyed herself in the vanity mirror. Her face was clean now, but her pimples turned red and shiny, and her hair hung snarled around her shoulders. Thin black down covered her arms and legs, it had been forever since she shaved them. Beth hated her looks. Nose was too wide, lips too big, and her cheeks were too chubby.
She spotted an ivory comb near the sink and picked it up. She pulled out the bright red hairs and tossed them in the trash.
Here was the hard part.
Lifting the comb to the top of her head, she began her own slow torture. Minutes passed, full of tugging, pulling, headaches, and the elastic sound wet hair makes when it snaps. The worst of it was those little knots at the back of her neck. Those bastards would not seem to untangle.
After her hair was combed through, it felt wonderful. Beth felt better than she had in a long time. She knew, at least now, she wasn't a fat, dirty, orphan; now she was just a fat orphan. And she had to admit, her hair was beautiful. Matted it fell to mid-back; when combed the ends tickled the top of her butt. But it would take forever to dry, so she grabbed on of the spare hairties, (this too had bright red hair), and pulled her long sheet of hair up into a ponytail, then headed toward the door.
Listening for any sounds of people, she then rushed back into her room where the pile of clothes waited for her.
Taking of the towel, (she had locked the door for extra security), she rummaged through them. She was right, most of them didn't fit.
Tossing aside a ridiculous black tanktop, she saw a navy blue hoody that was just baggy enough for a tight fit. And under that hoody was a horrible pair of big, 80's pink, denim shorts. Unfortunately, they fit too. Worst of all, she had thrown away her underwear so she would have to 'free-ball' it — as one of Mom's boyfriends called it.
When she was dressed, she looked into her own mirror. The short were too short and showed way too much of her flabby legs, and the acid pink clashed with the dark blue.
How could she go out like this? This would be the first time she would ever meet these people and she had to look like she'd dressed in the dark?
Turning away from the mirror, she headed out the door, trying to ignore the feel of rough denim on her bare butt.
Well, if the last chapter was the longest, this one had to be the shortest. Again, sorry about that. And don't worry, the next chapter will be longer, and a lot more interesting. Hope you all have a happy Christmas! Love, Lo.
Review Response:
To Absolute Omega: Welcome home. It's 2:00 a.m. so don't expect some flowery greeting from me. But thanks so much for following this series. Glad you like the description. Hope you don't mind such a short chapter. I'll email you later, I just got some cool new Evo pics. Laters. Lo.
To Mattb3671: First off, I SO luv your new fic! Forge is awesome! Sorry I haven't reviewed yet but I promise I will get around to it. Talk to ya later. Lo.
To DreamerLady: Oh my musey-musey-muse. Thank you so much for helping me and for being the luvable, infuriating, goof-off person that you are. Glad you like the pics, I'll email you more soon. Later. Red Lo.
To Strawpig: Didn't quite understand that, pig. Thanks anyway.