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“Sure do. She’ll even have the choice of a couple of rooms. Got two departures yesterday, babies flying the nest and stepping out into the world.” At the mention of a free room, I get an uncomfortable pang in my chest and a wave-like pain in my stomach.
I must be hungry.
Or maybe the idea of leaving Amy here alone makes me want to sit ass naked on a bed of coals.
“Come on, young lady. Let’s get you sorted out. How about you tell me your name or whatever you want me to call you.” Maribel doesn’t touch her but her empathy is palpable.
“A-Athena.”
My head snaps to the side so quick I’m afraid it’ll rip right off my spine.
Athena?
Goddess of… war?
Fuck me, I think I’ve just fallen a little bit in love with this mystery woman.
And bylittle, I do mean alot.
Chapter Six
Athena
This bed is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. The peach duvet is so thick and warm that it’s difficult to motivate myself to move, but a pain shoots through my lower stomach and I know I need to get to the bathroom.
There’s a small ensuite to my right, with a toilet, basin, and shower. “The essentials,” is what Maribel told me yesterday. Climbing out of bed, I look down at the new cream-colored pajamas that had been carefully placed on the pillow and smile. The small sentiment made me feel more at home than I have ever felt.
Oh no, I think I’m too late. Now that I’m fully awake and I’ve moved, I can feel it.
I’m going to be in so much trouble.
She’s going to kick me out.
Maybe if I scrub them clean before she notices, it’ll be okay. I can hide it.
Tears begin to fill my eyes and I hate how weak I am. This whole thing was supposed to be the beginning of a new me, but damn emotions keep getting the better of me and I’m not okay with it.
I want to be stronger, but I’m not sure how to do that.
On a shuddering breath, I head to the bathroom without looking back at the bed sheets, confirming my fears that I’m bleeding. The crotch of the pajama bottoms is damp with blood, but I’m fine.
He’s not here. He can’t hurt me.
The dull pain in my lower stomach becomes insistent, but I need to control my breathing.
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m free.
I made it.
Finishing on the toilet, I turn the shower on and remove my pajama top before stepping inside the glass cubicle with the pants scrunched in my fist. It’s been a couple of months since the last time I bled so there’s nothing I can ever really do to prepare for it, but I’ve made a mess of my new pajamas, and possibly the bed sheets. My heart is thudding in my chest as I use the ocean scented shower gel and scrub the pants clean. There isn’t a lot of blood, and I’m hopeful it didn’t leak through. I should check.
Once everything is clean, I turn off the shower then squeeze the water from my hair and the pajama pants before stepping out. The large peach-colored towel feels amazing against my skin as I wrap it around my body, and I’m a little sad that I didn’t cherish the shower more. My breathing evens out as I hang the pajama pants over the door to dry off, hopefully before Maribel notices. I don’t want her to think that I’m not grateful for her help. If she thinks I ruined the clothes she gave me on the first night… I don’t even want to think about that. I can’t mess this opportunity up.
It’s taken literal years to get to this point. Years of reciting the address Mom passed on to me, over and over again. She almost made it too…
I pull on the second pair of black leggings I bought from the thrift store—stuffing some tissue into the crotch area—and slide the same green hoodie over my head, then comb my fingers through my damp waves. The pen I used to hold it up in the bun is sitting on the bedside table, and though I did wash it clean, I can still see remnants of blood on the silver tip.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I push the pen out of my mind before looking at the bed with my stomach trying to expel itself from my throat.