Theo

I contemplate between wearing my dirty sweater or one of the new clothing items I've been given. If I wear one of the new ones, they would end up smelling really bad instantly. So I decide to put back on my old but familiar sweater. My hands shake as the mud caresses my fingers, and the sweat from the sweater sticks to the scars on my body.

I feel my feet plodding on the white marble laminated flooring. A few more steps and I reach my forsaken destination. I stare at the door for a few seconds, unsure of what action to take. Do I knock? Do I just walk in? Do I call out for her?

I settle on knocking, and the door opens within a few seconds.

"Hi," I say timidly.

"Hi."

"I have a problem."

"Okay..."

"The shower."

"You have a problem with the... Shower?"

"Not with showering. I just, uh... I can't turn it on. I don't know how to."

"Oh, I'm sorry I should have shown you how to use it before." I sense that same patronising tone in her voice that seems to be second nature to her.

"It's not like I don't know how to use household objects," I fire back.

"That's not what I meant."

"It obviously is. I've used a shower before. It's just, your one is confusing to work out."

"Look, Theo, I didn't mean to offend you, I just meant-"

"Can you just show me how to use it? Or if you're just going to stand here and insult me further, I'll just run myself a bath."

There is a pause as a look of pain registers across her face. "Yeah, um, I'll go help you with that right now," she says quietly.

I nod, and make my way back to the bedroom I'll be staying in. Eliza traces slowly behind me, and once she enters the room, I signal for her to enter the bathroom first.

She walks in with me following behind her, and she steps into the shower. "Um, you're going need to come in as well... To see what I'm doing."

"Okay." I say, as I step into the shower as well and join her on the left hand side.

"Well first, you have to hold down on this button, until it turns blue, because it allows the shower to activate," she says as she presses a button. "And then, these buttons are for whether you'd like to time your shower. This button is to go up in time, and this button is to go down in time. Would you like to time your shower?" She asks, as her eyes pierce into mine.

"Um... No I'm fine."

She nods, and then quietly moves past me to walk onto the right side of the shower. "Okay, so you turn this button to signal the temperature of the shower. If you move it to the right it'll get hotter." She says, touching a button.

"And this button is to determine whether you want lights in your shower or not. And this button turns off the shower. That's it."

"So, about the time thing... I can set the timer for anytime whatsoever and the shower will go on for that long?"

"Yeah, and it'll stop automatically when the time's up."

"Okay... Thanks."

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Nah, that's good. I'm good."

"Okay, well, I'll see you later." She says, as she opens the door to the shower and steps out. Once she is out, I take off my sweater and hold the door open as she is trying to close it. "Sorry I just need to take off my clothes," I say, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention to my face. Instead, it seems as if her eyes are engrossed on my upper body. Or were. I thought things weren't clear through the glass door, I think to myself as panic rises through me. When she finally speaks, her tone is the same one she's had for the past few minutes.

"Do you want me to wash that for you? Your sweater? And your... Jeans." She asks as I take my jeans off and throw them onto the floor as well, exposing just my arm to her.

"No, that's fine. I'll do that myself soon. And I'll clean up any mess they make on the floor."

"Okay," she says and I shut the glass door, before walking over to the left side of the shower, and pressing down on the button to activate it. As I turn my body around and look up, I notice her figure watching again, but she scampers away as soon as my eyes catch hers.

My mind ponders as to whether she saw the scars. It's not that they make me sad, or even ashamed. But nobody can see the amount of scars I have on my skin and act like they haven't. Nobody can see it and not ask any questions about them. But, that's where the problem lies. I don't want the questions. I don't want to have to point out each scar and recreate the moment when I received it.

After pressing the buttons on the other side of the cubicle, I turn around to make sure I am still alone. The shower quickly forcefully pours down on me from the ceiling, and the feeling of being cleansed from all the dirt that has leeched onto my skin over the past few months is an unbearable one. A smile involuntarily slides across my face, but I am too immersed in the act of showering to even care.

After I retrieve a fresh bath sponge from a pack on the gray surface behind me, along with a half empty tub of bath wash, I instinctively begin cleansing my skin by rubbing it on my chest area, which causes me to yelp out in pain. I take deep breaths and use lukewarm water to wash the soap away, hissing in exasperation every time it touches a scarred area. I pick up the sponge one more time and attempt to start the process again, this time beginning with my legs.

Eliza

Rushed thoughts pound my mind as to the reason for all of the scars on his chest and stomach. It can't just be that he got beaten up, can it? Those scars look like he has been personally attacked by a hoard of sheep discovering how to use a knife.

The clock reads six-thirty, which means I left him to shower roughly fifteen minutes ago. I think to myself that he must be done, and internally pluck up the courage to go to his room and question him. I brace myself up to the possibility that he might not answer my question, and instead attack me with violent words.

I inwardly sigh to my self as I step in front of his door and softly knock it.

"One second, I'm dressing up." I hear from inside the room.

"Oh, right, sorry." I say, a wave of embarrassment coming across my face.

I lean against the wall next to his door and begin to admire the smooth floor beneath my feet. From afar, it's hard to tell there is even anything that stains the carpet, but my eyes dig so deep into it, I manage to detect the little things. Every fluff, every piece of bacteria laid out on the carpet faces inspection from my eyes. It even gets to a point where I begin counting them. As I reach number twenty-four on the fluff brigade, I hear the door next to me open, and Theo's face pops out. He turns and notices me.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I assure him, as I spring back up to my original position in front of the door. "Yeah, I just wanted to ask you something."

A look of slight alarm crosses his face. "Ask what?"

"Can I come in?"

"Um, Eliza, I'm flattered but I don't think your mom would be very happy about you doing this."

"What? No, I was just trying to-- I didn't mean to-" I begin but stop as I watch his mouth widen slightly into a laugh. I begin to laugh too. "Oh, you were joking."

"Yes, I was. But you can come in," he says, walking into the bedroom and sitting on the bed.

"How was your shower?"

"Fine," he says abruptly. I inherit the sense that he wants to say more, but something is evidently stopping him.

"Just fine?"

"Yep. So what's your question?" He finishes.

"Don't attack me for this."

"I'll try not to."

"Promise me."

"I can't... Do that. But I will try not to."

"Okay, so um... Before, when I was helping you with the shower..." The look of alarm returns to his face, giving me the impression that he knows what I'm about to ask. But he doesn't want me to. "When I was leaving, I saw... Um, your back. It was... Well, I was confused because there were so many... Scars." I finish off, noticing him watching me intently, throwing me off the whole conversation.

"Scars," he repeats back to me, but he is not looking at me. He is looking past me, creating doubt in my mind as to whether he is asking me or simply just saying the word nonchalantly.

"Yeah."

His eyes shift from me to the window, which he stares at for a while before finally speaking again. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says.

"But, um-"

"But, nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"But, Theo-"

"Look! You really need to start minding your own business okay?"

"This is my house, I think I have a right to receive what I'm demanding for."

He stops and raises his eyebrow.

"I'm sorry I-I didn't mean that. It's just... If you want to talk about anything, you know... I'm here to listen. You can talk to me."

"I appreciate that. But I don't need to talk about anything. And I really need you to stop prying into my life. Yes, it's your house but if that means I can't even have just a strip of privacy, then I'd rather go back to sleeping on the streets."

Without realising, I notice the action of me squinting my face in accordance with his words, as if what he is saying is resonating pained feelings within me. "Okay, well... I'm sorry. I'll just leave you alone." I slowly walk out the door, shutting it behind me as I hear a faint voice behind me. "Thanks."

I lean my head against the door, for a reason that is at first unbeknownst to me. But then I realise that I am searching for something, anything that will help me to understand this boy more. It's as if he knows that I am out here, because not a simple sound comes from inside the room. Mute. Five minutes later, I don't budge, but I hear the sound of a hard sigh colliding with the creak of the bed.

I decide to avert my attention to something else, something that doesn't leave me confused or worried. But I can't. I don't know the boy, but anybody with that many scars would strike colossal amounts of curiosity, concern and consternation in me.