But maybe it’s more than that.
Maybe, as I step under the rainfall showerhead in the huge, black-tiled stall,it’s the panic of a fish flopping around on dry land, realizing that it’s founditself somewhere it was never, ever meant to be.
I keep my head down and let the scorching water run all over me. It turnspink as it washes away the blood Dmitri didn’t already clean himself. WhenI reach out to adjust the water pressure, I see that my fingers are stilltrembling.
“f**k,” I breathe to the empty bathroom.
Everything in here is soothing—the water, the temperature, the fruit-scentedsoaps that lather like a dream. But no matter how long I stay here, I can’tbring myself to relax.
Because I don’t belong here.
If anyone knows the feeling of not belonging, it’s me. Dad didn’t wa
