I didn’t know what he wanted. “I have to pee,” I said. “I don’t know if you want me to go in the bed.”“How do I get this plastic wrap of... you?” Pietro asked, looking for an edge.“They usually cut it off,” I replied, wondering if he would find a different use for a knife. He nodded again and left, heading towards the kitchen and the knives. He came back with a big butcher knife, the sharpest knife in the knife rack. I watched him approach the bed. Starting with my feet, he sliced off the plastic. The white washed walls glimmered with cleanliness. My special place, my private place. The knob turned and the icy water fell stabbing at my hand. Tingles squiggled up my spine and the headache drifted away to the white noise of the shower. I stretched with the mirror as my audience. My halfway-buttoned shirt looked crooked as ever and my poor hazel eyes had bags under them. The random clumps of dark emerald hair looked like some animal mauled them. Slowly I undid the shirt and slipped out of. More

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