Washes Over Me Novels & Stories

I must ensure every last trace of the poison is expelled. With shaking hands, I rinse my mouth and splash water on my face, trying to wash away the lingering sickness. My body feels relieved finally but drained. —*

Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk so deep on him, drowned myself in his every touch. I grab the soap, scrubbing furiously, running it over every curve, every inch of skin, cleansing myself as though I can wipe him away. I lather until my flesh stings, until the foam clings thick, before rinsing it off, letting the shower’s cascade wash me clean. My fingers rake through my wet hair. The water roars down, drowning the sound of my breath. I switch off the tap with finality, ready to reach for my towel—when my entire body freezes.

The weight of the accusations, the uncertainty of the future, and the relentless pursuit slowly faded away, replaced by a moment of respite and self-care. Turning on the shower, I let the warm water cascade over my body, washing away the physical and metaphorical grime that had accumulated. The steady stream brought a sense of renewal, cleansing both body and soul. I closed my eyes, allowing the water's embrace to wash away the remnants of fear and uncertainty. As the water enveloped me, my mind began to quiet, the chaotic thoughts giving way to a sense of serenity. The sound of the water became a soothing symphony, drowning out the noise of the world beyond the bathroom walls.

I must be losing my mind. Stepping into the shower, I turn on the water, fully clothed. The cascading drops wash over me, the sensation grounding me in the present. Every inch of my body stings, as if I've just been whipped. My voice feels hoarse, and my mind is a tangled mess. Tears elude me, and so I stand beneath the water, allowing it to mask my anguish.

She took the soap and began to rub it against her body roughly. "I'm going to wash away all your touch, all the touches, every part of my body that your filthy hand's touch, I'm washing them off asshole," she murmur those words and began to wash her body with tears rolling down her eyes non stop...

The man who wants me punished in the most brutal way. As I stood beneath the relentless onslaught of water, I let the anger and frustration wash over me, cleansing me of the lingering traces of him that threatened to cling to my skin like a stubborn stain.

That is the bargain, and I am in it whether I like it or not. I move to the bathroom and stand under the explosive shower. Water on my skin is a ritual, an attempt to wash myself into a person who can stand on her own two feet. The water is lukewarm and tastes of the pipes. I scrub at my hair with hands that have been small and gentle many other places, trying to remove the smell of him from my skin. But you cannot scrub out the touch of a person who has known where you are tender.

My skin is covered in a thin layer of dirt and sweat, sticky from travel and old blood. Stepping into the shower, the heat hits me like a wave. I brace both hands against the tiled wall and let the water cascade down my back. I stand there motionless for several long moments, just letting it pour over me—washing away the grit and ache of the past few days. The water is almost too hot, burning where it hits, but I don’t turn it down. I want it to burn. I want it to scrub everything clean.

I can’t take it. I strip down immediately, stepping into the shower. The water is hot, scalding even, and I let it run over me again and again, washing, scrubbing, over and over until I can convince myself every trace of him is gone. I shampoo, rinse, shampoo again, rinse again. I can no longer hear his sounds, but the feeling of being dirty lingers, crawling under my skin, impossible to shake.

I can feel the grime and sweat being washed away, as if the water itself is purifying not just my body, but also my mind. With renewed energy coursing through my veins, I grab the towel hanging on the rack and briskly dry myself off. The soft fabric caresses my skin, absorbing the remaining droplets of water and leaving me feeling refreshed and invigorated. I take a moment to admire my reflection in the fogged-up mirror, noticing the subtle glow that now emanates from within me.