Washes Over Me Novels & Stories

Like every piece of me has returned to its rightful place overnight. Last night happened…..the fear, the crack, the weakness. But it doesn’t own me. It never will. “I’m fine,” I say under my breath, and this time… I mean it. I swing my legs over the bed and stand with no hesitation, and no lingering. I walk straight into the bathroom. The water runs hot against my skin, steady and controlled, just the way I like it. I stand under the shower longer than usual, letting it wash everything away, not just sweat or sleep, but the remnants of yesterday.

EUDORA. When I washed myself in the shower days after my First heat, it was with a delicateness that I thought I’d lost since my return from the MoonBorn pack. When I washed myself, I wasn’t obsessed with getting invisible imprints of the filthy hands that touched me, off my skin.

Cold shivers washed me. God please help me.

This simple gesture was something Dante had never done for me. As he gently wiped away the sweat, his touch was tender and soothing. It was as if he understood the weight I had been carrying, the burdens I had been shouldering alone. With each stroke of the towel, I felt a sense of release, as if the worries and doubts that had plagued me were being wiped away along with the sweat.

A wall of deafening sound and opaque mist. My entire body is a single muscle taut with rejection. Every pore, every cell silently screams humiliation, pent-up anger, fear. I watch, hypnotized, his blurred, distorted, enlarged silhouette behind the frosted glass. A shadow rubbing its skull, its shoulders. He is washing himself. He is erasing the traces of the day. Perhaps he is erasing a mistress's perfume from his skin. Perhaps he is wiping off splashes that are not water. Perhaps he is simply trying to remove this weariness that gnaws at him and which, visibly, now includes my presence.

ELVIRA I wash my face slowly and steadily, letting the water flow down in a stream. I release a sigh as it cleanses my soul as much as my face. The liquid flows down across my pores, washing away my ruined makeup and wiping my tears. I don't know when I suddenly feel lighter, raising myself up again to look at my new reflection. My mood lifts slightly.

I rinsed away the remnants of the past, allowing the water to carry away the emotional residue that had threatened to suffocate me. Having completed the task, I turned towards the inviting embrace of the shower, its steamy tendrils snaking through the air. The heat washed over me, enveloping my body in a comforting cocoon, as if attempting to heal the invisible wounds that marred my spirit. The steady drumming of the water against my skin created a symphony of release, washing away the weight of my burdens.

The water cascaded, a soothing rhythm that drowned out the whispers of uncertainty. Stepping into the shower, the warmth enveloped me, washing away not only the physical remnants of the day but also the emotional residue that clung to my soul. The droplets danced upon my skin, a gentle caress that mirrored the complex dance of emotions within. As I stood beneath the cascading water, I allowed myself to be immersed in the present moment. The doubts and fears that had haunted me dissipated, replaced by a sense of self-acceptance.

I wonder if I am powerful, too. “Okay,” I say. “Wash me.”

My body shivered, half from anger, half from something darker. The shower knobs screeched as I turned them, steam billowing up instantly. I stepped under the spray, letting scalding water beat down on me. It was punishing, almost unbearable, but I welcomed it. I scrubbed at my skin until it turned pink, lathering soap over every inch, trying to wash away the scent, the heat, the imprint of him.