Dawn shot the woman a glare as she intruded into her apartment. She had a right to look around, she supposed, but did it have to be now? What did the old woman expect to find? Everything Sparkler related was kept well hidden or at her hideout, so she needn't worry about that. There was a spare suit tucked away in a shoe box at the bottom of her one closet, but that was it. She was very careful about that sort of thing.
The place was pretty spare, even as efficiency apartments go. It was old and worn, with the faded floral wallpaper peeling and a slight musty smell hanging in the air, but in otherwise decent shape. It was a good home for a kid just out of college and on a budget. Most of the furnishings- a couch, a bed, a bookshelf, a table and chairs- had been supplied with the room. All the other furniture consisted of boxes or crates stacked together or were some distressed, curb crawled disasters. A couple family pictures, a painting of a stormy sky, some rocks and arrowheads she had collected as a child, lace curtains from her grandmother, and several other odds and ends served as the only personal touches to the room. It was a little unkempt, as Dawn was not the most domestic of women. There were some clothes piled in a chair, an old stack of college books in the corner, everything needed dusting, and the pot of overcooked oatmeal was still sitting on the stove from breakfast. But nothing truly suspicious to complain about.
"What if I find the ke-" Dawn began, but the woman had already left. She could kick herself for borrowing more trouble than she had meant with her choice of words before. Too late now.
---
When Mrs. Bailey left, Dawn staggered over to the door and locked it, leaning her head against the wood briefly. Her body was shaking, having been pushed far beyond anything it had been asked to withstand before. She felt disgusting and dirty but her exhaustion won out. Slipping out of her boots and Theresa's coat, she collapsed on the couch and wrapped her nudity in the quilt that was draped there. A deep sleep took her immediately, and she didn't move for many hours.
When she finally awoke, it was late afternoon, her heart was pounding, and she was covered in a cold sweat. There had been a dream that she couldn't quite remember and for a few seconds she didn't know where she was. After a brief moment of panic, she recognized her home, and her thoughts began drifting back to the night before.
Then she smelled him. He was still with her. His scent clung to her hair and his touches still seemed to linger on her body, between her legs. She jumped up, shaking as one possessed, and scrambling like she were suddenly crawling with spiders. A bath. It was a need. She dashed to the bathtub and turned the hot water spigot as far as it would go. The water was scalding, but she wanted it like that, as if to burn him away. Scrubbing and rinsing, she stayed in there until her skin was raw and the hot water heater had run out.
Her body was flushed red when she got out, but didn't seem otherwise damaged. She noted in the mirror that her other injuries had healed as well. At least that power had returned fully. The red scratches on her breast were gone, though at certain angles she thought she could see the vague outline of a triangle where his palm had made contact. It wasn't always visible, so it might have been her imagination.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she wandered over to a clock. It was ridiculously late; she had missed work. There was a slew of messages on the answering machine, some concerned, some pissed off at her absence. One had threatened to come over. She didn't want to see anyone, but she might not have a choice. In fact, wasn't that footsteps in the hall just now?
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