[WM] 023 - Words Unsaid
“One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter.” - James Earl Jones
The water beads off her shoulders and down her back. Over the top of her head, pressing her bangs against her forehead and against eyes shut so tight. If she stops breathing, just for those split seconds she can almost hear the hum deep within her still for a moment. As if it's wondering what she's going to do next. Her own body seemingly having a mind of it's own each time she might think to take things into her own hands. Standing there under the water, under the water as it pours over her, under the water because as much as she could wish to sink into it all the fear can consume her. All she can ever be satisfied with is the water running over her. So she lets it run. Into her mouth as she parts her lips, across her shoulders and between her breasts. Over fingertips and down her legs to pool briefly at her feet before draining away.
The water grows from scalding to a heat that her body acclimates to. The tops of her feet a pinkish red, from the first degree burns she's positive she's only a few degrees away from. Still she just stands there, hair plastered to her back and shoulders, stray strands clinging to her cheeks and slipping into the corners of her lips as she inhales avoiding water in her lungs.
She stands there watching her fingers and hands soak up the moisture, letting it seep deep into her tissue. The brief moments when she opens her eyes she looks to them for a moment, seeing the wrinkle of skin and the pale of her palm turning redder from the heat. Her thumb brushes across her one palm, harder than she expected to press peeling a worn callous of skin off of her before she shuts her eyes and sinks back into the stream.
The longer she stands there the less she feels the heat. It's either her body adjusting or the water heater emptying slowly, but when the water begins to shift away from heated to warm, she twists the faucet again. Aching for that scald, for that connection to anything, and when it doesn't come she turns the water off. The bathroom's steamed up all the mirrors by now, and even if she wanted to look at her face she wouldn't be able to.
Pulling a towel off the rack she tugs it tight across her body, pressing her back against the bathroom door as she slinks onto the floor. Her feet are wrinkled too she notices picking one up in her hand to examine it a bit more. All warm to the touch and wrinkled. Setting it back on the ground she sits there with the edges of the towel growing damper as her hair lets the water slip from it into the terrycloth.
All Elle can do is stare at her hands. The wrinkles and the way her skin isn't as soft as it was before she stepped into the water. If she looks closely all the veins of blue are easier to see, and the crackle of life beneath the skin pops every so often, her body relaxed and doing what it did in it's natural state... live. Staring at her hands, the hands that at the moment belonged to a much older woman, a woman that had lived for so long and had the wrinkles and deep grooves of life to prove it she brought her thoughts to Adam.
Would he still love her when she looked like that? Would she still be able to take his hand into hers if hers was wrinkled and old like the one fresh from her shower? Sitting there brushing her fingertips against the surface of skin she watched them dry slowly. The warmth of the room removing the chill from her skin, and the dry air pulling the moisture from her slowly. It took only twenty minutes or so before she was left with hair that was dry at the ends and hands that were her own once again.
The thought didn't leave her though, because one day she'd be old... and he'd still be Adam, and she had to wonder how long could she stay Elle.
The water beads off her shoulders and down her back. Over the top of her head, pressing her bangs against her forehead and against eyes shut so tight. If she stops breathing, just for those split seconds she can almost hear the hum deep within her still for a moment. As if it's wondering what she's going to do next. Her own body seemingly having a mind of it's own each time she might think to take things into her own hands. Standing there under the water, under the water as it pours over her, under the water because as much as she could wish to sink into it all the fear can consume her. All she can ever be satisfied with is the water running over her. So she lets it run. Into her mouth as she parts her lips, across her shoulders and between her breasts. Over fingertips and down her legs to pool briefly at her feet before draining away.
The water grows from scalding to a heat that her body acclimates to. The tops of her feet a pinkish red, from the first degree burns she's positive she's only a few degrees away from. Still she just stands there, hair plastered to her back and shoulders, stray strands clinging to her cheeks and slipping into the corners of her lips as she inhales avoiding water in her lungs.
She stands there watching her fingers and hands soak up the moisture, letting it seep deep into her tissue. The brief moments when she opens her eyes she looks to them for a moment, seeing the wrinkle of skin and the pale of her palm turning redder from the heat. Her thumb brushes across her one palm, harder than she expected to press peeling a worn callous of skin off of her before she shuts her eyes and sinks back into the stream.
The longer she stands there the less she feels the heat. It's either her body adjusting or the water heater emptying slowly, but when the water begins to shift away from heated to warm, she twists the faucet again. Aching for that scald, for that connection to anything, and when it doesn't come she turns the water off. The bathroom's steamed up all the mirrors by now, and even if she wanted to look at her face she wouldn't be able to.
Pulling a towel off the rack she tugs it tight across her body, pressing her back against the bathroom door as she slinks onto the floor. Her feet are wrinkled too she notices picking one up in her hand to examine it a bit more. All warm to the touch and wrinkled. Setting it back on the ground she sits there with the edges of the towel growing damper as her hair lets the water slip from it into the terrycloth.
All Elle can do is stare at her hands. The wrinkles and the way her skin isn't as soft as it was before she stepped into the water. If she looks closely all the veins of blue are easier to see, and the crackle of life beneath the skin pops every so often, her body relaxed and doing what it did in it's natural state... live. Staring at her hands, the hands that at the moment belonged to a much older woman, a woman that had lived for so long and had the wrinkles and deep grooves of life to prove it she brought her thoughts to Adam.
Would he still love her when she looked like that? Would she still be able to take his hand into hers if hers was wrinkled and old like the one fresh from her shower? Sitting there brushing her fingertips against the surface of skin she watched them dry slowly. The warmth of the room removing the chill from her skin, and the dry air pulling the moisture from her slowly. It took only twenty minutes or so before she was left with hair that was dry at the ends and hands that were her own once again.
The thought didn't leave her though, because one day she'd be old... and he'd still be Adam, and she had to wonder how long could she stay Elle.