"It's been a while. Almost forget you're a rockstar." She exhales slowly. “Well, that's better than going to Alexei’s basement.”
I nod once. “I’m going to shower,” I mutter, pushing to my feet.
She reaches for my wrist before I can walk away. Her touch is warm. “Hey,” she says. “Take care of yourself tonight.”
I look down at her hand on my arm. At the faint tremor she’s trying to hide. “Yeah,” I say. “I will.”
She lets go.
As I walk back toward the bathroom, my chest tightens—not with fear, not exactly. But with the weight of knowing the illusion of safety is gone now. I just exist in the space between commands. And I’m already counting down until I belong to him again. Until I'm getting beaten over and over, driven to the point of near insanity with cravings.
I take my phone with me into the bathroom and set it on the counter beside the sink. I scroll until I find one of the playlists I made a while back. And I hit play.
Music fills the bathroom through the phone speaker. I strip down, toss my clothes onto the floor, and step into the shower. The water comes on hot as hell, steam fogging the mirror before I can even look at myself.
The first song passes. Then the second. I’m rinsing shampoo out of my hair when the third one starts. I lay my palms flat against the tile, my entire body stilling while I listen to the beginning notes.
“Right Here”by Lil Peep.
My chest tightens, but it’s not as sharp as before. It’s quieter and even a little heavier, like a wild animal settling inside me instead of lashing out.
She’s there.
Not a face...or a voice. Just thesenseof her. The woman from Seaside. The weight of her presence, and the way it used to exist inside me. I close my eyes as the water runs over my head, over my shoulders, down my back.
For a split second, muscle memory kicks in. The instinct to reach for the phone, skip the song or shut it off before it becomes too much. But Alexei's voice cuts through the impulse instead.
You don’t have to feel.
My jaw tightens, and I don’t move. The song keeps playing. Her presence lingers, but it’s distant. I breathe.
In. Out.
In. Out.
The water drums against my skull, grounding me in my body. In this moment. In the tiled box I’m standing in, naked and alone and very muchnotfree. This is new.
Normally, the reminder makes me tense, angry, or want to burn something down and disappear inside myself. Normally, I fight it. Or I drown it. This time, I don’t do any of that. The song plays through, every lyric soft in a way that squeezes my heart but doesn’t rip it apart. I don’t flinch or spiral. I don’t chase memories or shove them away with desperate, bleeding hands. I just endure it.
By the time the track fades into the next one, the feeling has dulled. It’s filed away somewhere I don’t have to look at right now. I open my eyes and rest my forehead against the tile, exhaling slowly.
So this is what it feels like.
Not healing or even moving on…but control. And the fucked-up part is, I’m not sure whether to be relieved or terrified that I’m finally learning how to do it.
I shut the water off and stand there for a second longer before getting out. I don’t recognize the version of myself staring back from the fogged mirror when I swipe a clear patch with my palm.
My eyes look empty. The hazel in them is pretty much nonexistent. It was her favorite color. I suppose that's a sign in some way.
I dry off, pull on clean clothes, and leave the bathroom without bothering to fix my hair. The suite feels quieter now without Adriana’s music playing like before. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch, phone in her hand, scrolling absently. She looks up when she hears me and studies my face.
“You good?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’m fine.” It comes out automatically.
She doesn’t buy it, but doesn't argue, thankfully.
I grab my jacket from the chair and sling it over the back of the couch, then sit beside her. The cushion dips under my weight. She shifts slightly, giving me space but not moving away.