They were dusty as well, but clean.
Weird.
I slipped off my disgusting, food-laden jumpsuit and turned on the shower, not bothering to wait until the water warmed up, because that was never going to happen.
The warden was all about torturing his subjects, and a cold shower was just another way that he did so.
“Has no one ever taught you how to eat? The food is supposed to go in your mouth, not on your clothes,” a miffed English accented voice sounded from beside me unexpectedly.
I screamed and jumped away, slamming into the side of the shower stall farthest from where the voice had come from.
I looked around wildly.
There was no one there.
“Boo,” the voice whispered from behind me, which should have been impossible, because behind me was the freaking wall.
I ran through the freezing cold spray of water and out into the open areas in front of the showers. I frantically tried to cover myself as I looked around for the asshole who’d just joined me in the shower. There was a clump of mashed potato between my toes that must have dropped from my hair and I tried to shake it off as I glared around the room.
I couldn’t see anyone.
Still naked, I held my hand across my chest to try and support my breasts as I ran frantically to each stall, trying to find out who was in here with me.
“My dear, a lady does not run around naked as they day they were born in public. It’s just not polite.”
Where was that voice coming from?
“Who are you?” I screeched, shivering from my brief, glacial shower and beyond pissed.
A figure suddenly materialized a foot away from my face, and I fell backwards to the tiled floor in shock.
There was a ghost standing in front of me. The ghost of a tight-ass headmistress who probably sipped tea with her pinkie out by the looks of it. Her skin was a shimmering, barely translucent silver in color, and she had black hair that was pulled back in a severe bun parted down the middle. I had the sudden urge to tell her that not many people could pull off the middle part, but I refrained.
She was wearing spectacles low on her nose, and her lips were pursed as she studied me like I was a cockroach she’d found crawling around on her freshly cleaned floor. The ghost was wearing a black Victorian dress, with a white frilly collar that was almost to her chin, and went down past her ankles. She looked like she’d never smiled in her life, and I expected at any minute for her to pull out a ruler and rap me across the knuckles.
“And now you’re staring at me. Have you no manners whatsoever, young lady?”
I continued to stare, flabbergasted. Just when I thought that I’d seen just about everything I could see in the prison, here I was completely naked on the bathroom floor getting lectured by a schoolmarm.
Who was I right now?
“If we’re talking about being rude, do you think you could possibly avert your eyes while I finish showering?” I asked her, trying to keep the amusement and annoyance out of my voice.
I would just leave, but something told me this ghost was relatively harmless, and the mashed potatoes in between my toes were driving me crazy.
“Well, I do say,” she sniffed. “You were the one who came into my home without permission. I was just protecting myself from intruders, as any woman would do.”
“Right,” I answered, not sure what to say. “I’m just going to be in there, if you could stay out for just a bit.”
She sniffed again but didn’t say anything, so I took that to mean she was going to let me shower.
Trying to cover as much of my skin as possible I darted back into the shower and under the still running spray.
“Your hair is absolutely atrocious. You need a hair mask and a trim immediately. How do you expect to catch a man when you look like a bedraggled rat?” came the ghost’s voice from outside the door. I guessed that was an improvement from her voice coming from inside the shower.
I ignored her, because arguing with a ghost about my hair routine seemed a little crazy and I’d reached my threshold of crazy for the day.
“Well, I never! She comes into my house, uses my shower, and then ignores me when I try and engage in polite conversation,” she muttered to herself.
“I can hear you,” I finally