The red won't go away.

I keep scrubbing. Hands rubbing together again and again.

The warmth of Not-Cameron at my side is both a comfortable reminder of domestic normalcy, and it sets my teeth on edge.

The water runs clear, but I still see red.

I grab the sponge. Drawing it over my skin harder and faster, like I want to scrub the flesh from bone. I think I hear something but all sounds have gone muffled.

The image of Cameron's eyes staring at nothing keeps flashing in my mind, and yet somehow they glare at me accusingly from my memory. Scrub harder. Wash it away.

"Eloise stop!"

The sound of my name snaps my vision back into focus. Not-Cameron's face fills my vision, concern evident in the turn of their lip and the frown pulling at their eyes. The sponge is ripped from my hands and something thick and viscous suddenly engulfs them. I go to look down but one of their hands suddenly catches my chin, stopping me from looking down. What don’t they want me to see?

"Look at me. Breathe." Their silver eyes hold my own captive. The squishy substance holding my hands hostage drags my arms up, pressing my palms to Not-Cameron's chest. Their heartbeat is steady...and strong, almost like it's beating right up against my palm.

My mind zeros in on the steady thump-thump of their heart. Like the pitter-patter of rain, or the steady beat of footsteps on a cobbled road. The calming effect is powerful.

My lungs feel heavy as I take one shuddering breath after another.

"There you go, love. Breathe." Not-Cameron's voice surrounds me with its lilting, soothing undertones. A sound I had grown to like over the past seven months.

The squishy substance coating my hands retracts and changes, until I feel the familiar weight of Not-Cameron's hand on the back of my palms.

"Come on. Come take a seat." Step by step. Beat by beat. They lead me through the doorway to the living room.

I’m gently lowered to sit on the couch.

My eyes zero in on the wet stain on the furthest cushion. Cameron's face starts to fade back into my consciousness.

Their expression drops, glancing between me and the stain. A feral snarl rips through Not-Cameron as they fling the wet cushion away. Lowering themselves to kneel in the space left behind.

Their hands don't leave mine, thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of my left hand. The gentle pressure serves to keep me grounded; brings me back to the present.

"It's over. You're safe. Nothing else will happen to you, I promise."

The words combine with the pressure on my hand to form a powerful spell, banishing the images of blood and death to the back of my mind to be dealt with later in the quiet of night by my subconscious.

I only register the fact that I was shaking once it stops...and Not-Cameron releases my hand. Withdrawing just slightly, giving me space. They turn their body to sit in a more relaxed stance, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.

They hold out a cup to me, and I take it. I don't ask how they suddenly produce a full cup of my favourite drink from the empty space behind them; either they have more hands (or approximate) than I know or they can levitate objects and I don't know which would be weirder and how much more weird I can handle right now.

"Thank you." I don't know if my whispered thanks are to thank them for helping me calm down, for the drink, or for stopping Cameron from suffocating me upstairs. A little bit of both all of those I think.

The sound of a purr starts and then stops just as quick. Even though Not-Cameron has turned to the side, I can see their jaw shift as they clench their teeth. "I'm sorry. You need normal right now."

My heart skips at how serious they sound.

"More normal than me."

I ponder those words.

The solid weight to them. The sadness. The regret. The bitter twinge of jealousy. The quiet easy-to-miss upward-lilt of a question.

Like coins, I count up my memories with them; the scary and unnerving are outweighed by the happy and comforting. But the most recent coin is tarnished and in need of polishing, before it can be added to the wallet and put away in my pocket.

"Upstairs. When you..." I trail off.

"Killed him." Not-Cameron finishes.

I take a sip to clear my throat before resting the cup on one thigh, wrapping my hands around the ceramic and focusing on the temperature to keep my grounded state in place. "Were you going to hurt me?" The word "hurt" almost sticks in my throat.

Not-Cameron turns like they've been electrocuted. Their hands reach out for me but hover just short. "No. Never. Never hurt you." Their voice distorts again, a tinge of black creeping in around their eyes, but this time it doesn't fill me with a feeling of dread.

Their head bows forward, shoulders hunching inward. Shame overtaking their features. "I...I'm sorry. I thought if I scared you..." They blink rapidly. Hands shaking as they pull back. "I didn't want to..." It's their turn to take a steadying breath. "I don't want to lose you now."

They sound a little broken. Why does that hurt?

"Okay. Listen to me." I put my drink on the coffee table and turn to Not-Cameron, shuffling closer until my knee almost touches theirs. I gently reach out for their shoulder, lightly brushing the flannel. "These past few months, have been like a dream. I've felt safe and happy and I finally know what it's like to love someone who loves me back just as much. But I have to know..."

Not-Cameron turns to face me again. The black has vanished from the whites of their eyes. Their posture is tense, like they’re set to run.

"...Why did you replace Cameron."

At my words, they somehow tense up even more. Not-Cameron's gaze twists and for a split second I think they're going to burst into tears again. But then suddenly their face relaxes, all expression disappearing. "You didn't want anyone else."

"What do you mean?" I question.

"I tried. Before, I mean. I talked to you. Tried to get close." The skin of their face ripples and for a few seconds it's like a slideshow of multiple different faces appearing and disappearing.

I even recognise some of them; a bus driver, a homeless man, a child who sat one table over at my local cafe who you spoke to for a while while they were waiting for their mother to come back from the shop next door, a guy who stood to give you their seat on the train.

They continue talking even as their face changes. "So many faces. I learned so much. But every time I tried, I couldn't get closer. You didn't want any of them. You chose him." Their face settles back into the visage I've grown used to seeing over the past seven months. "So I used his face."

"What do you mean you tried?"

Their face changes again, until I’m looking at the cute stranger I'd met in a bar three weeks before I started dating Cameron. They speak with a familiar drawling twang, "Well, then beautiful. Could I buy you a drink."

Their face changes again, becoming the stranger who'd lent me an umbrella last year. Speaking in a higher smooth voice. "Take it. I'd feel bad if you caught a chill."

I'd forgotten about those encounters until right this moment. I remember the feeling of 'something's wrong' that had struck me during them. Unconscious revulsion pushing me to push them away.

Their face starts to change again and I snap. "Okay, stop!"

The shifting immediately settles back into Cameron's face.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Blindly reaching out, searching. When I find their hand, they pull back slightly before accepting the handhold. I focus on the warmth of their hand in mine and quickly pull up my memories of cuddling on the couch and movie nights with popcorn. Once the beating of my heart has settled to a steady rhythm again, I open my eyes, meeting Not-Cameron's blank gaze with my own. "So, you became Cameron."

They nod.

"But...what I don't understand is...how did you know everything he knew."

They pull their hand out of mine again, sighing before they speak. "I needed to ea-needed to keep him alive until I knew everything." Their voice cracks slightly when they correct themself. Their hand comes up to lightly brush the edge of my neck. "But you were hurt because he got out. I was too complacent."

"So you were taking his memories."

Another nod.

"He...the body upstairs. Um...will you forget, or..."

"No. I'll remember...." a sincere expression suddenly floods over their face like a wave "...and I'll take care of it. I promise."

The air grows heavy as silence falls over us.

I sense no hostility in them, but the silence is uncomfortable.

A promise has been obtained that the immediate problem of the dead body lying in my upstairs hallway is not going to be a problem bringing police to my door and leading to a lifetime in jail. And yet, an uncertain future hangs over my head, and the urge to set something in stone burns in my chest.

"I want you to stay." / "I promise I...."

We speak at the same time.

Not-Cameron's mouth snaps shut mid-sentence at my words.

I wait to see if they'll finish their sentence, but they seem to have frozen again like they did upstairs.

So, I continue. "I mean. Everyone would be suspicious if Cameron stopped going to work and, the neighbours love you, and as I said before...I think I might have...maybe...I love you."

Their breath hitches at the word love, but I keep going.

"And well...the real Cameron can't ever come back, so it would make sense for you to stay and I would appreciate it if you would keep pretending to be him and..." I trail off into silence.

There's something heartbreaking about the crestfallen expression making its way onto Not-Cameron's face. He twitches each time I say the name Cameron, even as he nods along in agreement.

I switch track. "What is my name?"

"What?" Not-Cameron jolts, expression wiped clean for a second and pupils dilating.

"I can't keep calling you Not-Cameron. I want to know your name." I speak slowly to ensure the emphasis is clear. Keeping their eyes locked with mine.

For a few seconds, their pupils grow and shrink rapidly, like a blinker light. After a moment, they settle again, and expression returns to their face. Their expression is reminiscent of a soldier, stealing themselves to face the firing squad. "Alright, love." They shuffle in their seat before suddenly holding out their hand to me again.

I take it.

"My name...my real name...is Dieter." Their voice distorts midway, becoming deeper and husky, like TV static given voice. "It was given to me. To be my own."

I repeat it. Testing the feel and flavour of their name in my mouth. I decide I like it, and say it again.

A lovestruck grin begins to spread across Dieter's face. Their teeth are slightly sharper than normal and their pupils turn into literal hearts, which they quickly blink away.

I grab their cheeks, lightly pulling their face towards mine.

Dieter follows like a sunflower seeking light, willingly shifting forward to kneel on the couch. Arms braced on either side of my hips to not fall forward and crush me beneath them.

"If we're gonna make this work. Don't hide that."

"Hide what?"

"The hearts, they're cute."

With a single blink, the hearts return. "Okay," they breath. "Need anything else."

I take a deep breath and let go of their face. Warmth burns the corners of my eyes and tears begin to spill. My body has finally begun to register the finality of it all. Relief and the backflow of my emotions are all spilling from my eyes.

A distressed expression flickers across Dieter's face as I shuffle myself back, leaning into the cushions.

"I need a hug or I'm gonna cry. Please."

It's a lie. Well, the part about needing a hug is true, but the tears are going to fall regardless of whether I receive the physical comfort immediately or not.

Dieter complies without hesitation, regardless of the truth to my ultimatum. Immediately following me into the corner of the couch and wrapping their arms under me. I feel the jolt of my stomach as weightlessness takes hold. They turn, lifting and settling me on their lap with startling ease.

I cling to them like they'll disappear any moment. Burying my face in the crook of their neck and fighting the urge to scream out my emotions.

One arm coils around my legs while the other wraps around my back. Solid warm bands of muscle, encompassing me in safety. A large hand cradles the back of my head, gently massaging my skull in a soothing motion.

A familiar humming vibration starts and stops again.

"I like the...the purring...t...too." I barely choke out the words against their neck through my muted sobs.

The vibration starts up again. The purr could put any motorcycle engine to shame. The sound is damn near ethereal, like sitting in an echo chamber filled with singing bowls playing healing vibrations; a feeling like liquid gold seeps through my battered frame.

"I love you. I will make it right. I promise." Dieter's voice switches between the familiar tones of Cameron and the deeper pitch they've revealed to be their real voice, but both carry the same weight of adoration.

Exhaustion rears its head and my eyelids grow heavy.

"You can sleep, meine liebe. Everything will be fixed when you wake."

The sobs wracking my body begin to lose their edge as darkness creeps into the edge of my vision. Dieter shifts, their body somehow becoming softer. The pull of sleep becomes too powerful to fight.

I begin to drift, cradled in warmth and soothing vibration.

My last thought before the darkness envelops everything surprises me. The final spark of my subconscious is as brilliant as a star in the void of the dreaming abyss.

How wonderful it is to be loved.