ELIJAH'S POV
I slammed the bathroom door behind me and turned the shower on full blast. The water drowned out whatever Deborah might have been saying or doing on the other side. I didn't care. I needed space from her paranoia, her accusations, her neediness.
My hands shook as I stepped under the hot spray. The water hit my skin, almost scalding, but I didn't adjust it. I wanted the burn. I wanted something to focus on besides the image of Imogen that kept swimming into my thoughts.
Blonde hair now. I couldn't picture it, but I wanted to. The Imogen I remembered had dark waves that fell past her shoulders. She used to let me run my fingers through it when we were young, when everything felt possible and nothing felt complicated.
"Fuck," I whispered, pressing my forehead against the cool tile.
