(no subject)

The bathwater is hot. Her nearly-white skin had turned pink at the heat at first, but it isn't nearly enough to remove the feel of his hand on her. Shelley shakes, thin arms wrapped around her knees, hair turned dark red slicked with water against her pale back, tears squeezing from behind tight-shut eyelids.

He won't leave her be. She always knew he wouldn't let her go, but he comes and talks and he smiles, oh God...

(What will you give for me to leave you in peace?)

Warm water splashes her cheeks as she tries stop the helpless tears, slightly water-wrinkled fingertips rough against the skin of her face.

There is nothing she can do, and no one who can help. (Though there is, just outside if she could only get out, but he won't let her go, not ever, it's hopeless and useless alone here, and she shouldn't feel so cold in the warmth of the water...)

Shelley leans back, down into the bath, still shaking as she stares up at the blurred ceiling through the clear warm water and her hair floats around her face. But the heat is soothing as she lies there listening to the beat of her own blood echoed by the water covering her ears, and she begins idly to wonder as the muted thrumming sound gets louder, what would be so wrong if she didn't sit back up. She closes her eyes and feels the heat and darkness and the tightness in her chest is painful by now but it's so easy to just lie here, and let it go and breathe...