DAY 55: Girls' Showers [2nd Shift]
Cleaning issues aside, Claire was honestly relieved when the word 'shower' came out of the bitchy soldier's mouth. She heaved a grateful sigh and more than willingly handed over her cleaning supplies -- she couldn't get rid of them fast enough. It wasn't just that the work was demeaning, it was that she wanted to get on with the day so she could hunt her uncle down and figure out what exactly they were going to do about this.
Of course, the issue with the showers was that it meant her uncle would probably be tough to find any time before lunch now. The adults and children got separated, on top of the gender separation. Most days she would be grateful for that kind of thoughtfulness. Today, she was just frustrated.
Still. It wasn't that long of a delay, and besides, how many days had it even been since she'd last gotten a chance to shower? Too long, that was for sure. It was a miracle she wasn't still bathing in her own blood, considering what had happened since Monday. Back on Monday, she was still brimming with hope and promise. Now she was scrubbing floors. It was really amazing what a fear coma and a psychotic nurse with scalpels for fingers could do to a girl's optimism.
Monday … Tuesday … Wednesday … Thursday … she ticked the days off on her fingers and calculated. Oh, man. It was Friday. A sudden disappointment filled her. They weren't just missing out on breakfast, they'd missed pancakes. Suddenly the punishment seemed a lot more severe and inhumane. That also meant it had been four days since she'd seen head or tail of a bar of soap.
Maybe she should have stuck to avoiding Pete. For his sake. As they were led back to where the bathrooms were (as if they didn't already know. As if they weren't coaxed out into creeping around there every night out of some necessity of their stupid cat and mouse game) she slowly lifted her blouse to her face to sniff it. The shirt came a little untucked and she promptly shoved it back in -- at least until they were in the ladies' room, anyway.
It was nice to get out of the uniform. As stupid and itchy and obnoxious as the usual one was, this one was a lot more confining and uncomfortable. It had to be some kind of miraculous, peak discomfort formula they'd used to pick everything out, because she was pretty positive nothing would be worse than those stupid smiley face sweats. The boots were a bitch to get off -- okay, a week ago? She probably would have felt bad for thinking of it like that. Today, she had spent hours scrubbing a floor that she hadn't done anything to get dirty. It was most definitely a bitch to get those silly patent leather boots off.
Once she'd waged the war of getting herself out of the uniform, she tried to take her time in the shower. Except for the part where that apparently wasn't allowed and the water turned viciously cold to propel her out of it as quickly as she could scramble for a towel. At least she'd gotten her hair rinsed. It was a meager accomplishment, but if she was going to hold onto the last of her optimism, she was going to have to focus on the little things so she could keep up her willful pride.
Getting the uniform back on was harder than taking it off, and she was ninety percent that her belt was upside down or backwards or something because it definitely wasn't following the seam of her pants but they couldn't honestly care. She pulled the boots back on and fidgeted to get her beret over her still-wet hair with a scrunched, disapproving face and then finished buttoning up and tucking in her shirt. It all looked a little haphazard, but at least she was considerably cleaner than she'd been. It was a give and take thing.
Same as the last time, her shower being complete meant being directed back out to the sun room to where the others would be gathering as they finished up, and she willingly went with a sudden renewed earnestness. The sun room was where the bulletin board was, and there was something she desperately needed to check on.
[ to here ]
Of course, the issue with the showers was that it meant her uncle would probably be tough to find any time before lunch now. The adults and children got separated, on top of the gender separation. Most days she would be grateful for that kind of thoughtfulness. Today, she was just frustrated.
Still. It wasn't that long of a delay, and besides, how many days had it even been since she'd last gotten a chance to shower? Too long, that was for sure. It was a miracle she wasn't still bathing in her own blood, considering what had happened since Monday. Back on Monday, she was still brimming with hope and promise. Now she was scrubbing floors. It was really amazing what a fear coma and a psychotic nurse with scalpels for fingers could do to a girl's optimism.
Monday … Tuesday … Wednesday … Thursday … she ticked the days off on her fingers and calculated. Oh, man. It was Friday. A sudden disappointment filled her. They weren't just missing out on breakfast, they'd missed pancakes. Suddenly the punishment seemed a lot more severe and inhumane. That also meant it had been four days since she'd seen head or tail of a bar of soap.
Maybe she should have stuck to avoiding Pete. For his sake. As they were led back to where the bathrooms were (as if they didn't already know. As if they weren't coaxed out into creeping around there every night out of some necessity of their stupid cat and mouse game) she slowly lifted her blouse to her face to sniff it. The shirt came a little untucked and she promptly shoved it back in -- at least until they were in the ladies' room, anyway.
It was nice to get out of the uniform. As stupid and itchy and obnoxious as the usual one was, this one was a lot more confining and uncomfortable. It had to be some kind of miraculous, peak discomfort formula they'd used to pick everything out, because she was pretty positive nothing would be worse than those stupid smiley face sweats. The boots were a bitch to get off -- okay, a week ago? She probably would have felt bad for thinking of it like that. Today, she had spent hours scrubbing a floor that she hadn't done anything to get dirty. It was most definitely a bitch to get those silly patent leather boots off.
Once she'd waged the war of getting herself out of the uniform, she tried to take her time in the shower. Except for the part where that apparently wasn't allowed and the water turned viciously cold to propel her out of it as quickly as she could scramble for a towel. At least she'd gotten her hair rinsed. It was a meager accomplishment, but if she was going to hold onto the last of her optimism, she was going to have to focus on the little things so she could keep up her willful pride.
Getting the uniform back on was harder than taking it off, and she was ninety percent that her belt was upside down or backwards or something because it definitely wasn't following the seam of her pants but they couldn't honestly care. She pulled the boots back on and fidgeted to get her beret over her still-wet hair with a scrunched, disapproving face and then finished buttoning up and tucking in her shirt. It all looked a little haphazard, but at least she was considerably cleaner than she'd been. It was a give and take thing.
Same as the last time, her shower being complete meant being directed back out to the sun room to where the others would be gathering as they finished up, and she willingly went with a sudden renewed earnestness. The sun room was where the bulletin board was, and there was something she desperately needed to check on.
[ to here ]