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Erato (passionburning) wrote in nevermore_logs,

Sometimes, she wished that the scars on her legs still remained. At least then there would be a visible reminder of what she had gone through, instead of just in her mind. The towel was warm, and she pulled it close around her shoulders as she dripped onto the bathmat.

After a long moment, she took a careful step, observing how pink and perfect her feet were, no longer ripped apart. The bathroom wasn't far to the bedroom, so she stepped through, each movement deliberate. Passing the empty dresser was always a wrench, and she sighed and ran her fingers over it as she moved to her bed. There was a big pink fluffy robe there, a much cosier option than the showy gauzy numbers she often used to sport, and she dropped the towel to pick up the robe and pull it on, even over the wet locks of hair dripping down her back.