me. I’m experiencing whiplash from his emotions. “Grab your stuff.” He gestures to my bag on the floor as he dries his hands. “And do whatever you do with your eyes, we have a debate.” I frown as he unlocks the door beside me and I step around him to the broken mirror on the wall. Glass litters the sink, and I look in the broken pieces left on the wall at fragments of my reflection. My hair is messy from where Quenen’s hands had been in it, I can tell there are traces of blood from them as well when I try to smooth it and feel moisture against my palms. My eyes are puffy and red, I lean in
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