Astraea's POV
The second we arrived back at Draven's house, I didn't waste a breath. I left him and Zephyra behind and stormed straight upstairs, since I couldn't exactly be of any help to Zephyra, especially not when I was looking and feeling like this.
My hands were still sticky with blood, and every step I took made me more aware of how it clung to me. I couldn't stand it.
The bathroom door slammed shut behind me, and I turned on the sink. The water was icy, but I didn't care. I scrubbed hard, the crimson smearing before finally swirling down the drain.
No matter how much I washed, though, I still felt filthy, and it almost felt like the blood wasn't just on my skin; it had somehow gotten under it.
I yanked off my ruined clothes, throwing every piece straight into the trash bin. They weren't worth keeping, not after tonight. I didn't want the reminder. I didn't want to look at them again and remember the way I tore those demons apart, all while Zephyra was watching me.
