Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-02-18 05:27 pm
ikissdhimbck) wrote2009-02-18 05:27 pm
Entry tags:
OOM: Room 25, Doc Scurlock's (cont.)
[following this:]
She leans against the sink for a moment, not immediately reaching for that empty drinking glass. Blood is caked and drying on the inside of her thighs, and she still feels just a little weak. When she looks up at her reflection in the mirror, she's not sure she likes what she sees.
She remembers the way her father's hands had trembled, passing her mother's wedding dress on to his young daughter. He had smiled, so proud.
She catches something out of the corner of her vision, through the blur of tears in her eyes, and turns her head. The bathtub is full, steam drifting off light blue, bubble-coated water. She blinks a few times, brow furrowed.
I didn't think Miss Bar could ... ?
There's a small piece of notepaper on the edge of the tub when she moves closer to inspect things.
'Special occasion.
Relax, and try not to panic.
Everything is normal.'
The bathwater smells like Epsom salt, and eucalyptus, and chamomile, and there's a small bottle of something on the edge she can't quite identify. It makes her smile, a little, carefully bringing her leg over the side of the tub.
She settles into the warm bathwater, laying her head back and stretching those tired muscles. It feels so incredible she can hardly bring herself to move for several long moments.
Her thoughts wander.
Her knees curl in to her chest before she even realizes she's crying, shoulders shaking with quiet, repressed sobs.
.
She leans against the sink for a moment, not immediately reaching for that empty drinking glass. Blood is caked and drying on the inside of her thighs, and she still feels just a little weak. When she looks up at her reflection in the mirror, she's not sure she likes what she sees.
'You're growin' up to be such a fine woman, sweetheart. She woulda been proud.'
She remembers the way her father's hands had trembled, passing her mother's wedding dress on to his young daughter. He had smiled, so proud.
'Now, don't you just look like an angel.'
'One-a these days, I'm gonna give you away to a good man, sweetheart. And you're going to be beautiful, and happy, and you're gonna love him the way I loved your momma.'
She catches something out of the corner of her vision, through the blur of tears in her eyes, and turns her head. The bathtub is full, steam drifting off light blue, bubble-coated water. She blinks a few times, brow furrowed.
I didn't think Miss Bar could ... ?
There's a small piece of notepaper on the edge of the tub when she moves closer to inspect things.
Relax, and try not to panic.
Everything is normal.'
The bathwater smells like Epsom salt, and eucalyptus, and chamomile, and there's a small bottle of something on the edge she can't quite identify. It makes her smile, a little, carefully bringing her leg over the side of the tub.
She settles into the warm bathwater, laying her head back and stretching those tired muscles. It feels so incredible she can hardly bring herself to move for several long moments.
Her thoughts wander.
(He'll never see me walk down the isle in that white dress. Never.)
Her knees curl in to her chest before she even realizes she's crying, shoulders shaking with quiet, repressed sobs.
.