Feelings I Don't Know How to Say Otherwise. - 3. Clean

The streams converged and diverged on the expanse of skin that trailed down my abdomen. Steam rose as the heat cooled against the invisible surface: a fog that blurred the lines of tiles arranged edges against edges. Rivulets ran down my back: heat clinging to the cliffs of my shoulder blades, warmth sliding against the curve of my lumbar, coolness catching on the strands protruding from my calves.

My fingers pulled back the drenched curtains that plastered against my eyes, grasping at some form of clarity that seemed to elude me. Thoughts bounced between my head and the walls around me, soaking up the moisture in the air, accumulating weight: heavier and heavier.

A twist of the knob and the steam thickened as the heat pounded angry impressions onto my hunched shoulders. The force pummelled the emerging demons as the cage that imprisoned them relaxed, burning them as they burned me, cleansing my tainted vessel.

Fingers flicked the knob in the opposite direction, summoning a torrent of icy rain. The needles pelted against my raw skin, a cold harsh sting. I turned to face the cold waterfall, hoping the currents would flood my body and drive away these perilous thoughts.

Droplets of heat clung to my lower lashes as they lost energy, merging into the unrelenting flow of water that robbed them of their potency, their heat. I felt the wet heat drain from my eyes, taking away with them their weighted suffering.

My wrist flexed unwillingly: the water dribbling to a halt. I brushed the plush cotton across the lonely droplets, soaking them up. I touched the gentle material to my face, wiping away the evidence.

“What took you so long?”

“It takes time to get clean.”