= Sarah POV =
The bathroom was narrow, with a built-in seat for those who needed to sit while showering. I stripped us both down, folding my clean, brand-new clothes neatly to the side. Chris's worn, grimy ones were tossed into a heap, destined for either washing or incineration—I wasn't sure which yet.
"Come on," I murmured, guiding her to sit on the built-in seat. She moved like a marionette, her limbs heavy and unresponsive, her eyes vacant.
I pumped shampoo into my palm and began working it into her hair, my fingers threading through tangles and knots as gently as I could. But clumps of hair, dirt, and dandruff loosened under my touch, and she winced, instinctively pulling away.
"Shh, it's okay," I whispered, my voice breaking as I fought back tears. "Let's get this muck out of your hair."
As I scrubbed, scars emerged—thin, angry lines crisscrossing her neck and scalp where she had clearly tried to shave herself with something too sharp, too rough. Fresh wounds mingled with older scabs, and with each pass of my fingers, more hair and flakes of skin came away.
When her hair was thoroughly lathered, I turned on the showerhead and rinsed it clean, watching as the water turned cloudy with soap, blood, and remnants of her neglect. She winced again, but she didn't cry or protest. She just sat there, staring at the tiles, detached and utterly still.
I worked quickly, lathering a washcloth with body wash and cleaning her back, arms and legs. Her skin was marked by bruises; her movements were stiff and reluctant. "Stand up," I said gently, handing her the cloth. "You can do the rest."
She obeyed without a word, washing herself mechanically as if following instructions she barely registered. When she finished, I turned off the water and wrapped her in a towel. I did the same, draping my own damp towel around myself as well once she was done, tying it securely before heading out.
"Come on," I said, leading her to her own bedroom. The new clothes were neatly hung in her wardrobe. I handed her a plain shirt and soft sweatpants. "These will fit nicely for now I think."
After we both got dressed, I gathered our soiled clothes and gestured for Chris to follow me
"Let's eat," I said softly, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen.
I left her standing near the island as I took out clothes to the new washing machine and loaded it up with payment. The machine twirled up to life, and I set it to a quick wash and dry cycle so that I didn't have to worry about it for a while.
I returned to Chris' side and settled her onto a brand-new barstool at the island and unpacked the food, arranging it neatly on plates. Pushing the omelette and sausages toward her, I watched as she picked up her fork and began to eat. Her movements were slow and mechanical, but bite by bite, the food disappeared.
The fridge held a small selection of groceries—another thoughtful gesture from Ms. Takahashi's team—so I poured her a glass of orange juice. She reached for it immediately, drinking it down in one long gulp.
When she pushed her plate away and got up, she moved like a sleepwalker, drifting toward the couch.
"Not there," I said, intercepting her. I tried to steer her toward her bedroom, but she stopped at the door, staring at it as if it were a void she couldn't cross.
"It's okay," I said, gently redirecting her to my room. She followed without protest, collapsing onto the bed like a marionette with its strings cut. Within moments, she was asleep.
The quiet felt oppressive as I returned to the kitchen, tidying the plates and placing them in the sink. My phone buzzed, and Heather's name appeared on the screen.
"Hey," she began hesitantly, "about last night…are you okay? Did you…go home with someone nice?"
I sighed, scrubbing at the counter absentmindedly. "I went home with Chris. She's in bad shape, Heather. I know I shouldn't, but…" My voice faltered. "I think I had to."
Heather exhaled. "Well, that makes two of us. If you need your stuff, the key's under the mat. I'm at Amber's for a while."
The line went dead.
I stared at the sink, a hollow laugh escaping me. So much for a clean break. We both ended up exactly where we started.