"Yes, they are indeed that bad," Bleddyn murmured to herself, gradually tuning out of the world and falling prey to the water's temporary cleanse from reality.
Her cut scalp stung as the scalding water streamed through it, but she didn't move to turn the temperature down. Her gashes bloomed angry, spreading shades of red, agitated by the unholy heat. She would've been content to just lean against the shower wall for an indefinte stretch of hours and let the whole weekend burn away. If only I could stay in here forever. It'd be nice.
An abrupt surge of nonsensical rage suddenly had her clenching an unfortunate shampoo bottle before she could even figure out why; of course, its rebuttal was a spray of viscous foam in her face.
During her blind, stung panic, the slick tub floor stole her balance away and she landed painfully on her tailbone. Assorted dislodged containers of hair product pelted down on her.
Ow.