“Figured they would be, seeing as we escaped together,” Remy answered.
“Des, can you help us, please? We need to get cleaned up, a change of clothes and I need to get Sheila,” he asked his sister.
She looked back at the man. “Peter,” she said almost desperately.
“Remy, take a seat,” Peter instructed, but Remy stayed standing.
“Why?” he asked.
“Please, take a seat. This isn’t easy,” Peter said.
“Say whatever you have to say,” Remy said, refusing to sit.
“Sheila is dead, Remy,” Peter said.
“What?” Remy asked and I lunged to his side as his legs gave out from under him. Peter was quick to take him from me and sit him at the kitchen table. I wanted to cry for Remy. He looked so broken, and I couldn’t even imagine how he felt.
“I’m so sorry,” Des cried. “There was nothing we could do. I tried to get to her, but they found her first. She refused to answer any of their questions. They, they, shot her,” she told him, taking the seat beside her brother and wrapping her arms around him.
Remy seemed dazed when he lifted his head to look at Peter.
“Was it quick?” he asked lowly.
Peter shook his head. “She bled out, shot to the gut.”
“Peter!” Des yelled through her tears, “He didn’t need to know.”
“Yes, he did,” Peter told her. “I’d want to know everything if it was you.”
“Peter’s right Des,” Remy said. He sat up straighter and something about his face had changed. He seemed like a different person, almost. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Des can you give Percy here a change of clothes and help her clean up?” he asked and gave me a slight smile.
Des stood from the table, wiping her tears away with the bottom of her top and waved her hand for me to follow her.
She led me to a bathroom.
“You get cleaned up. I’ll be back in a minute with some fresh clothes,” she croaked.
The bathroom was small but functional. I quickly went to the sink and saw the horror that was my face. I had a light grey bruise above my left eye and at the temple from the attack in the grove. There was dried blood from a cut in my hair and my face and chest were splattered in gore, dried blood and small crusted pink bits. I gagged at my reflection, my hands shaking as I turned on the faucet and desperately began to wash the horror from my face and hair.
There was a soft knock at the bathroom door before Des opened the door and sat a change of clothes down for me.
“Here you go. Hopefully it fits,” she said and offered a slight twitch to her lips in an effort to smile.
“Thank you,” I said, grateful for the clothes and the hospitality she was giving.
I changed into the new clothes, the fabric clearly used to work, they were simple, a bit old and tattered, but I was glad to lose the dress.
On inspection of my ankle, it was in better shape than I thought. If I could rest it, it would heal in no time. But I couldn’t rest it. Des had left a pair of boots outside the bathroom door for me. My ankle felt better the moment I put them on and felt the support they offered.
I found Remy in the kitchen, having changed also. He looked dramatically different. In the time it had taken me to change, Remy had cut all his hair off and was in the process of shaving his beard.
“Don’t recognise me, flower girl?” he asked as he turned at my arrival.
“You’re like a different person,” I told him. He smiled, continuing his task.
“I’ve got makeup that can cover that bruise, Percy,” Des said and sounded unsure if that was my name.
“I would appreciate that, Des,” I told her.