Chapter 20: Cleansing

Sarah woke as the van stopped. The first light of dawn peeked above the horizon.

“Where are we?”

“Blessed Shelter.”

“Home?”

“Home. You should put on your clothes.”

Sarah shook her head. The movement hurt. Her mouth tasted like a cat had defecated in it. Her brand screamed. She was reasonably certain she sported a black eye, and the back of her scalp throbbed where Patrick had slammed her into the wall. When she carefully touched the back of her head, she felt a tender golf ball rising from her scalp and her fingers emerged damp with red. Blood covered her skin and hair, especially her knees and feet.

“Can you walk?”

“I can walk.”

Brady exited and pulled her door open. Without hesitation, she swung her bare legs from the van and stepped down into the snow. The cold welcomed her, driving frigid clarity into her mind. Without assistance from Brady, she pushed her chin up and walked to the bunkhouse. Brady followed. Inside, all the women slept, soft snoring contrasting with the night. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her.

At her bunk, Brady gently shook Rebecca. Rebecca wakened slowly.

“ ... again, Janet...”

Brady grimaced at the name, but didn’t otherwise react. He shook Rebecca again. This time, Rebecca fully wakened.

“Brady?”

“I could use a bit of help.”

Rebecca peered from the bunk, finally seeing Sarah.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

Rebecca clambered down the ladder, anger flashing across her features.

“It’s not her blood, Rebecca. She’s fine, at least physically.”

“She’s got a fucking black eye. Did you punch her, for fuck’s sake?”

“No. Patrick slammed her into a wall before I could intervene. Nearly slit her throat, too.”

“Patrick?”

“The fucker who raped me, repeatedly, when I was younger,” Sarah whispered. “Brady didn’t touch me.”

Rebecca spun to face Sarah.

“Are you all right?”

Sarah nodded. Even nodding her head hurt. She wasn’t certain of being all right, but she thought maybe she would be.

“I’m fine. I think.”

Rebecca turned to face Brady again. “You made her face that fucker naked?”

“That was me,” Sarah said softly. Perhaps it was a mistake, but she didn’t think so. Her nudity was her choice this time. Choice intrinsically held value. Oddly, despite being battered and bruised, she felt stronger. Rebecca heard Sarah, but continued to face Brady.

“What the hell were you thinking taking her there?”

“It was time for justice, Rebecca. Mind your tongue.”

Rebecca gazed at Brady for a moment, the naked indignant girl seemed to reconsider her next words.

“I’ll take care of her. You’ve done enough.”

Brady nodded and turned away, striding to the exit. In a moment, he was gone.

“Dammit, Brady,” Rebecca muttered. “Come on, girl,” she guided Sarah to her bunk. With a sigh, Sarah lay down and accepted the sheet, pulling it to her chin. Rebecca urged her over and slipped in beside her, wrapping her arms about her. For the first time during the mission, Sarah finally felt safe. She closed her eyes and sleep claimed her instantly, her body and mind exhausted despite sleeping in the van all the way back to the compound. In Rebecca’s arms, and with Patrick gone, no nightmares bothered her.

Sun streamed into the bunkhouse as Sarah opened her eyes. Her left eye felt swollen and she winced as she touched her eyelid lightly with her fingertips. A deep headache throbbed behind her left eye. Rebecca was gone from her bed.

“Did anyone get the licence of the truck that hit me?” she whispered, not expecting an answer.

Rebecca’s voice floated down from above. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Sarah groaned as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, the sheet slipping below her breasts.

“How long was I out?”

Rebecca’s face appeared over the lip of the top bunk, her eyes betraying her concern.

“It’s not like we have a clock, but I’d say it’s late afternoon. I was getting worried maybe you had a concussion.”

She climbed down the ladder to stand beside the bed. She hadn’t dressed, perhaps hadn’t even left the bunkhouse since Sarah’s predawn arrival. She reached forward and tenderly touched Sarah’s left eye. Sarah winced again.

“That’s a hell of a shiner,” she remarked. “You sure Brady didn’t hit you?”

Sarah summoned a weak smile. Even smiling hurt.

“Brady was nothing but a gentleman,” Sarah replied. “He literally saved my life. This,” she pointed at her eye, “must have happened when dear Uncle Patrick slammed me into the wall by my hair.” She also winced at the memory of Patrick lying dead on the floor of her old bedroom.

Rebecca looked skeptically at Sarah. “Okay. Maybe he didn’t clock you, but, he should never have taken you there in the first place. My lord, look at the mess you’re in.”

Sarah glanced down. Streaks of scaly rust coated her bare skin; Patrick’s blood marked her like a brand. Patrick’s blood was exactly the same colour as her own; images of a kitchen knife drawing across the skin of the her upper thigh, redness welling up from below to dry the colour of rust flitted through her memory. She pushed away the images of her own self-harm.

“Come on,” Rebecca said, “while there’s still light.” She extended her hand. Sarah accepted the help and groaned as she slipped from beneath the sheet to stand unsteadily beside Rebecca. Rebecca’s eyes widened at the sight of Sarah, but she quickly forced the surprise from her face; regardless, Sarah noticed. Dried blood streaked Sarah’s skin from head to toe, from angry slashes across her breasts to wide smudges across her abdomen, to deep pools upon her knees and shins where she’d knelt to check if Patrick still breathed. She could feel dried stickiness coating her hair. Sarah wavered on her feet until Rebecca steadied her with a firm hand on her upper arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The late afternoon sun warmed her naked skin despite the winter temperature and the icy trail under her bare soles. Rebecca led Sarah to the communal showers and helped Sarah start the stream, twisting the heat until steam billowed into the tiled area. The two women were alone there at this time of day.

Sarah closed her eyes and stood under the waterfall, allowing it to drench her soiled skin. For a few minutes, crimson sins saturated the water and flowed down the drain between her feet. After a time, Rebecca gently washed her, working soap into her skin from her fingertips to her toes and rinsing it away. Twice her hands travelled over her body, careful about her bruised eye and her still healing brand. There was nothing sexual about shower time, it was all about cleaning the evidence of her sins from her body, yet desire welled up in her at Rebecca’s gentle touch and Sarah forced herself away from kissing her. When she was clean, Rebecca allowed her to stand longer under the spray, absorbing the heat into her over-extended muscles and bones.

The falling water masked Sarah’s tears.

After drying off and Sarah brushing her teeth, both naked women ran lightly across the frozen trail to wardrobe. John looked up from where he sat tilted back on a chair reading a novel, surprised by their entrance.

“It’s late afternoon,” he said with a grimace. “No point to getting clothes now.” He gazed at the pair of them from head to toe, his eyes lingering on their breasts and pointed nipples.

Rebecca hesitated, clearly biting her lip. Instead of tearing into the man, she smiled sweetly.

“Please? We’re a bit cold.” She pushed her chest out marginally. His eyes followed closely. “We slept in.”

“That’s some sleeping in.” He noticed Sarah’s bruises. “What the heck happened?” he asked her.

“Truck hit her,” Rebecca offered, still smiling. “Actually, this happened last night and we needed to let her rest. I was taking care of her today, that’s why we need clothes now, not this morning.”