[center][h3][color=00a99d]『𝔼𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥』 [/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FJt85Te.png[/img][/center][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center][hr][center][color=00a99d]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕎𝕚𝕤𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕕, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕   / /   𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟[/color][/center][hr]
[quote][i][color=00a99d]"That's gross as hell."[/color][/i][/quote]
His own words cruelly echoed at him in his mind as he ran. Past Emma. Past Marcus. Past those lifeless, gold eyes belonging to some little girl he only briefly knew.

It was selfish, he knew that. He should have been making sure that Lawrence was getting proper healing or that none of his classmates were getting slowly crushed by that unnatural pile of rubble. But being selfish was what he was best at. He couldn't find it in him to give a shit, not while those deadly, red eyes lingered in the APC. Not while the crusting of the blood coating his body made it increasingly impossible to focus on anything that wasn't the rancid stickiness weighing on his body. He couldn't face anyone in this state, with eyes that weren't just red from the blood and his conscience bearing on him like a hand around his throat. He wouldn't be able to apologise to Marcus or anyone like this. So he didn't. He just kept running.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long to find a house on the way to drop-off with a working bathroom. Crimson-covered shoes and socks were shed immediately. Ernie moved quickly, soaking a towel and emptying a bottle of soap onto it, then scrubbing himself down like a madman clawing through his own skin. The durability from his rope negated the pain he would've received from such rough treatment, a neat trick he'd learnt years ago. Bathing in a rush was no stranger to him. Sometimes it was better to just get out of there before someone got pissed than get a proper cleaning. It would take a while before everyone got back, considering all the casualties. He had time. The dead could wait. Cat's Cradle could wait. Hell, they could just go ahead and raze this craphole town for all he cared.

He scrubbed until the freezing water stopped running red. It took a few towels to get through the sheer volume of filth on his body, took a few checks in the mirror to make sure he'd gotten it all out of his ears. Spotless. Not a splotch or scar on him, not even from Sander's rough hand. With the lack of injury from the battle, it was impossible to tell that he'd just been dragged through hell, save for the miserable frown branded onto his features. Ernie stared blankly at his face in the mirror.

Covered in vomit-inducing grime. Scared witless by someone he couldn't even dream of fighting back against. This was exactly how Christmas felt that day, wasn't it? Ernie watched a lifeless smile try to crawl onto his face. He'd brought it on himself. He deserved every bit of it. And he'd hated every part of it. If he just faced it like a man instead of the coward he always was, would he have gotten through it more smoothly? He doubted it. After all, here he was, grooming himself instead of helping load the wounded onto the APC, all because he couldn't stand the thought of his friends seeing him like the disgrace he was.

Ernie ran a clean hand through his knotted hair. It came out with the barest hints of red and he frowned again. He wouldn't be able to take a three hour drive with something like this pulling at his thoughts. The Aberration pawed at the matted locks in dismay. Long and dirty like worms burrowing into soil. Suddenly it wasn't just the cold making him shiver anymore. 

There wasn't enough time to make sure it was all cleaned out. Not at Wisford, not in the whole world. As long as he lived, he wouldn't be able to get that awful sense of dread out of his hair. He'd never be truly clean.

For now he just washed and combed it out as best he could in that short timespan, then tied it tight and high as if he was trying to separate his hair from the rest of his head. After a few minutes and a brief rummage through the house's wardrobes, Ernie emerged from the house with unfitting clothes, tight trainers, and a canvas bag containing the contents of his abandoned backpack.