61 Stranded

I was scared to leave the airport because I was afraid of the unknown.

I felt like I had a better fighting chance inside the airport where I could find someone who spoke the English language.

And I was afraid that my current physical attributes might give people the wrong impression.

I shivered at the thought.

After asking a couple of airport staff, I quickly figured that they did not have a public shower at this airport.

There was only an airport lounge with showers, but it was only offered to those with a departure boarding pass.

I would have to go through the security to get to it.

Without any identification or money, I doubt that I can get very far if I decide to sneak in.

With a long sigh, I got back onto my feet and looked around at all the signs in search of the bathroom.

Although there was a language barrier, the universal sign for bathrooms didn't change.

I didn't have to worry much since the signs also came in English.

Thank goodness.

Everywhere I walked, people cleared the way, probably from my stench.

I currently had the power of Moses and his staff.

I was able to part the sea of people to create a path for myself to walk through.

It definitely wasn't something to be proud of.

I lowered my head and quickly walked into the bathroom, ignoring everyone like they ignored me.

Most of them were quick to leave and move on with their business.

I ignored all of their quick glances and stood in front of the hand sink, staring at the image replicated in the mirror.

I look terrible—even worse than when I packed thick layers of makeup onto my face to hide my true features.

My face looked pretty worse for wear but not as bad as I thought it would.

I looked tired more than anything.

There was a giant bruised bump on my forehead from when the door slammed into my face, but it was easily hidden behind my hair.

I swept a patch of hair off of my forehead and flinched when I noticed the condition of my hands.

The knuckles were all bloody red with open cuts and bruises.

The skin felt extremely raw and painful.

I guess I didn't realize how hard I went about punching those bastards that kidnapped me.

Just the thought of what had happened and the stench that was emitting from my body, I couldn't help the sour feeling in my throat.

Before I could stop myself, my stomach heaved painfully and I bent over the trash can full of used paper towels.

I literally puked out everything that was left in my stomach, which was pretty much nothing except for yellow acidic liquid, until I was dry heaving with tears running down my face in messy streaks.

I felt extremely humiliated and ashamed. And it wasn't even my fault.

An event this gross and cruel, I would never wish on anyone.

Although I didn't get raped, I felt ultimately sickened by just the idea of something like that happening to women all around the world.

Those who did these disgusting acts to women are sick bastards that all deserve to have their penis' cut off, cooked, and fed to them.

Heaving one last time, I quickly washed my entire face with water and the antibacterial soap that was provided by the airport.

The hand soap was really harsh on my face, but I am willing to take that over all the semen and piss on my body.

No one dared to approach to dry their hands.

People were still giving me weird looks when I washed my arms and neck with the hand soap.

Since most of the people had a time crunch to get to their next destination, they didn't watch me for too long.

After a moment of thinking, I decided that I will try to wash myself and my clothes later when there were fewer people because the scent in the bathroom became rather nauseating after someone had taken a dump in here.

It smelled vicious.

And all I have to say is, if I ever see Zanthos again, I am going to strangle him with my bare hands.