Wow, so I am clearly guilty of high levels of neglect over here. I said I would update this more often, but it still got back burnered by the roll I had going on my other story. Anyways, I do not own anything of the 28 days later franchise, now on to the reading you were so patient for.
Sleeping in a bath tub with my rolled up hoodie to substitute one of the soft pillows I saw on that bed, and a large bath towel to substitute those soft looking blankets may not have been how I would have preferred to spend my first night back in 'civilization' but it was how I made the choice to do it anyways.
I had the suspicion of it when I saw my roommate was a man. His attempt at a compliment only confirmed it. It wasn't as much of a surprise as one might think.
I was made aware, as was every other woman who has had the privilege of being allowed into district one so far, exactly what was expected of me. We all were.
Our job is to repopulate the city, but also the country. They want us to have children. That is why one of the final exams to grant us citizenship in this new city was a gynecological exam. If we were not deemed fit to bear children we would have never left the refugee camps.
I passed, but I am a single women. That is why they seem to have assigned me a partner. It is also why I am upset.
While those fortunate enough to find a partner of their own and be deemed capable of bearing children did not have to worry about this problem. Even more fortunate were those whose partners survived the infection and were cleared to come here together.
For those without partners, whether they be male or female, they would have suitable partners provided to them. A rather nice way to say they would be forced into an arranged marriage.
We woman as a whole are not pleased about this, and quite a few made a fuss. But as situations go, it was also not very surprising they relented to it as well. When one is faced with a situation like this, no matter how vile it may seem, you can either rebel against it and hope that eventually you may see the changes you wish, or you can surrender to it. The chance to not have to struggle and scrape by in a crowded flighty camp after spending nearly nine months trying to survive was enough to convince many woman to except this distasteful reality for the time being.
They did make one concession though to appease us, and likely the rest of the world at the same time, since I am sure many woman's rights groups are up in arms about this. We are supposed to be given a period of time within which to find a partner in the population of the district on our own.
That is my complaint and will be my mission today. It is why I choose to sleep in a locked bathroom all night. It is why I stubbornly ignored the pleadings of a man on the other side of the door as he tried to reason with me to come out of the bathroom.
It was nothing personal against this Howard. Despite my lack of utter attraction for him, or his awkward unsure almost shy and insecure manner I had nothing against the man. I can even see him having the potential to be a very kind and considerate husband to a woman. It is not personal at all, it is just not my choice.
Everything has been beyond my control for so long. This is one thing I will not allow to be, not if I can help it.
The outbreak of infection robbed me, and everyone, of any semblance of normalcy. We were forced into a situation that required us to abandon our lives and our ideals. To save our own lives we were killing those we loved as often as we were killing friends, acquaintances, or complete strangers.
It wasn't until I moved that my back decided to inform me just how much it doesn't appreciate sleeping in a tub. It involved a lot of popping sounds and stiff muscles. It was also uncomfortable enough to inspire me to take yet another hot shower, not that I needed much urging.
As much as I have come to view things like this as unnecessary luxuries, they are still luxuries.
Stepping out of the bathtub I feel the cool press of the tile floor against my bare feet, but hardly give it any mind. My first destination is the bathroom sink, my plans for it involve getting rid of the dry chalky state of my mouth.
I don't bother with temperature, I just grab the closest handle and turn it, letting a strong stream pour out of the faucet and into my waiting hand. The first couple hand fulls are drank but when the water starts to get warm, revealing that I turned on the hot water, I use the next to splash in my face before I finally turn it off.
Following that my hands go back to the edge of the basin, but my eyes go to the mirror in front of me.
I look tired. Not just because I slept in a tub, I just look tired. I have had few chances since this all started to look in a mirror, and little desire too. I can even say that part of it is because I might have been afraid at what I would see.
I'm not sure exactly why, since I can't pinpoint any detail, but I look different than the memory I have of myself. My eyes are still that sort of aquatic shade of green, the kind that in certain light looks more gray or even blue. There aren't bags under them or dark circles.
My skin looks fresh from my shower the night before. The time I spent by myself left a visible tan to my flesh, the freckles decorating my skin in a light splattering.
Even my hair doesn't show any signs of the tired state I am in. the strands not dull or full of split ends, but still glossy and clean from a haircut I received before being sent here.
No, the only thing I can identify about why I look tired isn't anything physical that I can see, it's just the expression in my eyes. A hollow sort of resigned look so at odds with the smiling vibrant woman I remember being.
What I did, what I used to be, was all about life and expression. It was about expressing the passion of living. I see so little of that now.
I'm done looking in the mirror.
My hands leave the cool slick edges of the metal basin, and my entire body follows after them, turning now to walk toward the shower even while I slip my shirt over my head, exposing my naked chest as it falls forgotten to the floor.
It's joined soon by my underwear and bra, those pulled off the top of the shower door where I left them to dry last night after I washed them during my first shower. That they or myself were washed in what was obviously a man's body-wash means nothing to me.
The sweat pants almost fall off me after I loosen the drawstring, but that too doesn't matter. They are kicked aside to join the rest of the clothes while I step into the shower stall and close the fogged glass door behind me.
The blast out of the pipes is only cold for a second but I make no move to avoid its frigid teeth against my skin. The bite of some cold water is a bite I have no cause to worry over. It transforms quick enough anyways, turning into water hot enough to steam.
I let it scald my skin a shade of pink, my only reaction being an almost pleased hiss as it rolls over my back. I'm not even washing this time, I just have my hands resting against the shower wall with the water cascading over my back and my head hung, forming a curtain of damp dripping hair.
I'm not sure how many minutes, or maybe even hours passed like that. I just remained there letting the hot water roll over my skin and the sore muscles beneath it. Eventually, I just got tired of it and decided it was time to get out at last. Even though my body leaves the shower I can still feel the heat in my skin, a sign that I may have had it too hot for too long.
Even the soles of my feet don't notice the cold of the tile beneath them anymore when they land on them. Yet another sign, one that I ignore.
My treatment of my skin with the towel is acted out with just as little concern. Now that I have finished my shower all I want to do is find the official I need to talk to so I can change my situation.
Finishing the task of rubbing my skin almost raw as I dry it, I flip the towel back over the door to the shower before I snatch up my underwear and hastily put them back one, as well as the wrinkled, but still clan tee-shirt I slept in.
There is a small pause when I realize I put it on inside out, but then I disregard it as something not important enough to correct. I just continue, slipping on the sweatpants followed shortly by my socks and tennis shoes.
I'm less in a hurry with how I open the door then I had been while getting dressed however. It took him at least an hour or more before he gave up on the idea that he could get me out of the bathroom, and since I woke I haven't heard anything from him. The fact is though that this room is right next to the bedroom. I have very little doubt he heard me moving around and taking another shower.
My suspicion is yet again correct. He is awake when I open the door, and sitting on the edge of the bed looking at me.
I hold his gaze long enough to feel the need to blink, then turn for the door out of the bedroom, not even saying a word.
He however feels more obligated to speak than I do. "Wait, please..." He tries to reason with me once again, saying many of the same things he said before. "...can't we just talk about this?" This time I actually reply, not out of concern for his feelings but because he seems to need to hear it said.
"No."
I intended that to be the end of the discussion, but as is often the case with people, my intentions are not the same as the other party's. He isn't done. In fact, he is still determined enough to have this conversation that he does something that might even be considered foolish.
He cuts in front of me, and takes up my ID card I left on the table. The very thing I had been reaching for.
One of the rules set in this district one that was made very clear is this. You need that card. You are supposed to carry it with you everywhere you go so they can identify you. It is needed to go to and from anywhere in this settlement. Not having it will result in a strict penalty.
"Please..." That's why he took it, to keep me in this room. "...let's just talk. I know this is probably a difficult situation for you to accept. I'm sorry about that. But it will be for the best if we just work it out. I may not be what you expected, but it's how things are now. Let's work this out, it's for your own good too..." As if that threat is enough to stop me. "...you understand that, right?"
"Yes." That is the answer I give him verbally. I do understand that. It is also quite expectantly the answer he wanted, I can see it in his change of expression. The once concerned look changes to a happy own. "Thank you. I know I may not be the greatest catch but..." Then it shifts to confused. "What are you doing?!"
My hand stops on the door handle, and I turn to look over my shoulder at him. "Going out." Is the only answer I give him. I will probably be arrested and spend a little time in the detention center for leaving my room without my ID, but I don't really care.
He states as much is I am already aware of. "But they will detain you!". I merely shrug. "I know."
For a moment all either of us do is look at each other, waiting for whatever comes next to prompt the events of the future. His happens first.
His shoulder droop in defeat. "I can't do anything to change your mind can I?" I don't say anything this time, having never really been a person in the habit of repeating myself, especially when the question is obviously a rhetorical one.
His hand comes back up this time, the plastic rectangle swaying on the end of the lanyard. "I would have been good to you, you know." I don't smile when I say it, my face just neutral. "You'll be good to someone else." Then I take the ID and step out of the doorway.
I will TRY to not be so absent with this from now on, my apologies again.