I came back with a bunch of clean-ish clothes, not too sure what size she would fit. Not that I understood girl's sizes anyway. It's a fucking mystery to me. I pulled on some jeans that were a bit too tight and a shirt that was a bit too loose, before looking up at her. "Wanna pick something?" I offered. Silently, she shuffles over and pulls out a pair of red skinny jeans and a shirt before picking up her underwear and hiding behind one of the curtains to get dressed. Aside from being surprised that anyone bothered with underwear anymore, I sort of wished I hadn't said... whatever it was that'd brought on this reaction.
While I wait for her, I stretch out easily on the bed, touching the metal bars at the end with my toes. She comes back, standing a metre or so from the foot of the bed, unable to look at me properly. I frowned.
"What did I do?"
"N- nothing," she stuttered, picking at the hem of her shirt, concentrating on it so she didn't have to look up.
I propped myself up on my elbows so I could see her properly. "So... how come you won't look at me if I didn't do anything?"
"I-I just..." she trailed off for a moment, chewing on her lip harder than ever. She actually made it bleed. "You think I'm disgusting, don't you?" The tears were making a come back.
I almost laughed. I bit it back, though, settling for a raised eyebrow. "Why the fuck would I think that?"
"Because of what happened... to me," she sobbed. "I'm dirty and wrong and I understand if you don't want anything to do with me." Oh man, what was going on in that head of hers? Why would I think she was dirty or wrong?
I sat up properly, pulling myself down to the end of the bed so I was closer to her. "It hardly makes a difference to me what happened in the past. We've all got shit that we'd rather never happened, or wish we could forget. If anything, I'm the 'wrong' one here," I forced a small smile, more for her sake than anything. She looked up at me, moving a little closer.
"So you're not completely disgusted in me?"
"Why would I be?" I shrugged, "I'm disgusted at myself because I'm a shit person. You're not a shit person, so no, it doesn't make a difference to me," I told her.
"Why would you be a shit person?" she asked, confusion in her eyes as she stood in front of me now, pretty damn close. I could smell the soap on her skin.
"Where would I begin?" I laughed, but it was humourless. "I'm a dealer, an addict, a killer, generally a heartless shit... I could go on." I know she'd told me about her past, but I wasn't too sure I was willing to be quite so open. It was the past and that's where I wanted it to stay. She hesitated, not sure how to argue with me on that one.
"You've taken care of me. You may have been all that before, but you've changed," she told me, brushing a bit of hair back off my face. She had this gentle smile on her face, and I was sort of... speechless, I guess. I could feel myself getting all defensive, for some reason. I didn't do feelings or emotional shit like this. I was happy being numb before. It was the stupidest reaction in the world but I actually started to panic. All I'd ever known was being cold and hard and empty, and she was right, suddenly it was all beginning to change. I kept the shit storm inside my head off my face as much as I could, forcing out another one of those small smiles.
"Don't count on it."