When we get back upstairs I don’t slow down or look anywhere else, I just head straight for the bedroom and then into the ensuite, closing the door behind me like I can shut the dungeon and everything that happened down with it. My hands are still shaking as I strip my clothes off, movements rough and impatient, and I step under the shower before the water even has time to warm properly.
The first rush of water hits my skin and I suck in a sharp breath, then I crank the heat higher and let it pour over me, over my hair, over my shoulders, over the places where his blood is still drying. I scrub at my arms, my hands, my chest, like I can wash the memory away if I try hard enough, like I can rinse off the weight of what I just did and who I just became.
I don’t hear Axel come in at first.
