chapter three

“You look like shit,” Saul grunted as he got a good look at me with his piercing black void for eyes. Saul was in his 60s, but his hair was already completely white. He was wearing a plain white shirt underneath his apron, but you could tell just how strong he was from the biceps muscle peeking out from underneath the sleeves. Probably from all the years hauling the animals he butchered for a living.

“Just been a rough week.” I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets, shrugging my shoulders forward slightly. I didn’t shower before leaving, knowing I didn’t have the energy to do both going out and taking care of myself. When I stood in the bathroom, contemplating taking off my clothes, I knew it wouldn’t work. I needed to feed Samwise more than I needed to get myself put together. So I wore jeans that didn’t smell and a hoodie to hide my greasy hair underneath the hood.

I hadn’t done my skin routine for far longer than when I last showered, so I knew my skin was probably pale and blotchy with oil. But I didn’t look at myself in the mirror because I knew I would hate myself a little bit more for allowing myself to leave the house less than presentable. I didn’t think I’d looked this bad since I was a very young girl under the neglectful eyes of my parents, unaware of what was socially acceptable or healthy.

When I did learn, I stole so many products from my local dollar and drug stores. That’s where I got my love for makeup, being able to hide behind the creative masks you could put on with even just a little product. Transforming yourself into whoever you wanted to be regardless of who you were. Once I got into the routine of taking care of my skin and hair, it felt good to look my best at all times, regardless of whether I was at home or going out and seeing other people. I felt good and comfortable to be beautiful. I didn’t mean societal beauty either; I meant actually feeling beautiful.

When the products became too much money, and I realized all the bullshit additives they added, I started making my own and never looked back.

Saul’s eyes lingered on my form before turning away to go back through the door he had just come out of. My eyes rolled, and I shuffled my weight on my feet.

Saul owned a meat deli where I would get cuts of meat for Samwise, and he would give me the scraps of the animals he butchered so I could reduce it to tallow for my soap and candles. It was cheaper to get products here because sometimes he would let me leave with buckets full of potential products, and he never asked for payment. I would feel more guilty if I was making more profit than I was. But I was barely breaking even to begin with, even with the handouts.

I shivered as a frigid draft cut through me from the refrigeration system that kept the meat deli perpetually cold. I wanted to go home and curl up under my covers again. Hopefully, Samwise wanted to cuddle because I needed to rest my head against something with a beating heart and natural warmth. I needed something to ground and comfort me.

I again had to resist my body’s natural reaction to curl inwards as the darker thoughts started to make themselves known.

I couldn’t believe I left my house.

My right hand anxiously shot out from being stuffed in my pocket to push my sleeve past my fingertips and grip it tightly, hiding my hand with the sleeve. My left hand left my pocket to repeat the motion before I threw my hood over my head. I forced my back to straighten, and I fought with my breath to avoid hyperventilating.

I wanted to go home.

“I made you a sandwich. Need to fucking eat more. Who else am I going to burden with my bullshit?” Saul said as he used his back to open the door and swung it open with his arms full of neatly packaged bundles wrapped in white parchment and a box of animal bones.

He paused again as he took in my change in form before looking down again and placing all the bundles on the counter in front of me. I counted eight bundles plus the obvious grinder he had made me before frowning. That was way more than I usually got, and I hated getting handouts.

“Don’t make that face. You need to eat more, and the stuffs not selling, so you be doin’ me a favor,” Saul grumbled before he started to ring me up. “I’ll help you pile the rest of the shit in your car. You should be able to make a few batches with what I got for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, my fingers running in circles on my phone, my nervous habit. When I was younger, I rubbed endless circles with my pointer finger and thumb on top of each other until the skin was red, swollen, and overly sensitive. But even then, my body didn’t stop, almost like I couldn’t.

I hated owing anybody anything. No, I’d been down this song and dance before with Saul. When he gave me things I knew I could never afford, or he refused payment on something, it was best to accept it because it would show up at my door the next day, regardless.

The first time that happened, it was a sandwich like the one he was trying to give me today. I tried to pay for it on my next trip, but he ended up sending another to my door. Normally I would fight more about it, but today I was so hungry I would rather take it and eat it than face my pride. Plus, I didn’t really think I even cared anymore. It felt nice to have someone in my corner, especially now.

When he returned to the back to get the rest of the items, shooting pain from my fingertips made me realize I was rubbing the skin there raw. I forced my hand into a fist to feel my fingernail sinking to my palm and let out a breath through my clenched teeth to force myself to stop. Once the compulsion to continue subsided. I let out a relieved sigh that relaxed my shoulders and core.

Maybe this was why I came to Saul’s instead of the grocery store for just a quick can of dog food. Perhaps I knew I needed to come here for the comfort that even a second of Saul’s company offered me. Maybe I knew he would care for me. Maybe even feed me…

I clenched my fist again to feel my nails into my palm again to get myself out of the spiral I knew would wreck me. Then, when I was calmer, I grabbed the box he had brought in the first round and brought it to my car to distract myself.