Thankfully, Eloise breaks the silence before I do.

"Upstairs. When you..." She trails off.

"Killed him." I finish.

She takes a sip to clear her throat. The sweet aroma of cocoa and cream wafts in the air when the liquid swirls. "Were you going to hurt me?" The word "hurt" doesn't come out straight away, like when a person tries to speak around a mouth full of food.

Fear sparks through me, a short sharp shock that curdles my stomach, and I turn.

She looks sad. Mouth turned down. Brows pinched. Eyes shining.

Oh no. She doesn’t understand. He was the only one who hurt her. I was trying to protect her. He is the monster. Not me. Maybe I overreacted a little. But he was choking her. She couldn’t breathe, there wasn’t time to think. The rage I felt was justified; it burned, but only towards him. I … I … What I felt … What if I … Would I have … Maybe they’re right. No! She loves me now. She said ... I would never hurt her now. She has to see that. Please don't think I'm a monster.

"No. Never." I want to reach out, but I won’t. "Never hurt you."

I mustn't scare her away. Not now. Be slow. Be steady. I have to breath. In. Out. Calm down. Hold myself in.

Please believe me. Please. The thought drags inwards, and I chase the thought, curling in on myself.

"I ... I'm sorry. I thought if I scared you..." I want this to work. Despite everything, I want us to work. Believe everything I say. Please. Please, believe me. 

She doesn’t look like she believes me. The tension is still there.

It’s all going wrong again.

My hands are shaking, claws itching to break free.

No! I love... I want... I must not hurt ...

"I didn't want to..." The scent of her sadness is all around me, it hangs in the air and is cloying on the tongue. It's so hard to think of an excuse, something to say to make what she’s seen not matter anymore. To make it okay. "… I don't want to lose you now."

"Okay. Listen to me." The drink makes a sharp clink when it’s set on the coffee table. Followed by the rustle of fabric as she shuffles closer; warmth radiates just beyond my knee. Something touches my shoulder, the light brush of fingertips. Her perfume wafts nearer, a confusing mix of fading floral notes, fear, and that warm, morish, uniquely her scent.

"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..."

Her voice is gentle and those are the words I want to hear, but there is a small bite hidden in in her tone. She’s recovered some strength and now it’s being turned on me. I know what’s coming. I don’t want to hear it. Should I run? Should I stay?

"...Why did you replace Cameron?"

Every fibre of my being tenses. Prickling fear and a wrathful heat races along my skin and burns behind my eyes. Don't shift. Don't shift. DON'T SHIFT. I pull myself in, just on the cusp of a shift. Everything burns. "You didn't want anyone else."

"What do you mean?"

Why do they always have to push for more? Others wanted answers, but theirs were screamed and drowned in tears. My darling sounds calm; not accusatory, more curious. This feels different to the others. Maybe this time … If she wants answers, then she can have them.

"I tried. Before, I mean. I talked to you. Tried to get close."

I shift. Not entirely, just my face. Moving the sinews and scales around until I wear an old face. Then another face. Then another. All the faces I wore before in order to learn about her. A bus driver, a homeless man, a child, a passing stranger on a train.

"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 Cameron." I shift back into the face I’ve worn for the past six months, his face. "So I used his face."

"What do you mean you tried?"

Still so curious. I love that inquisitive hunger; so familiar, it’s one of the reasons I love her. I just wish it wasn't focused on this topic.

I shift my face again, running back through the myriad of faces I used to approach her.

The Texan with boyish good looks and a golden smile. "Well, then beautiful. Could I buy you a drink?"

The silver-tongued Norwegian noble whose face suited a gentleman lending their umbrella to a stranger in the rain. "Take it. I'd feel bad if you caught a chill."

Both are faces I had tried months before I replaced Cameron. I can see the recognition in her eyes. The realisation of how long I’ve been trying to get closer.

I start to shift into another when she snaps. “Okay, stop!”

No more. Don't push. I go back, two or three faces, until I feel Cameron's face meld over my own again.

She closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath.

Of course. I wouldn’t want to look at me. Why would she? What do I do? What do I...what is she doing?

What could she be looking for? Her fingers brush my hand. So warm. No. Pull back. What if she feels my claws. Everything itches and I can’t hide them right now. But I mustn’t scare her away now. I can't...

Why is she following my hand? Wait...she’s still following ... does she really want to...

I stop moving my hand away. Turning the palm up and she...puts her hand in mine.

Her hand is soft. Warm. Small. Not shying away from my claws either. The pulse of her heartbeat slowing. Good. A little tighter. Oh, her hands are soft. Warm. Small. Mine. Mine. Mine.

"So, you became Cameron."

What? Oh. Her eyes look like the night sky. Wait, what did she say? I should respond; a nod should be enough. Her hand is so small and soft.

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

I pull my hand away. The loss of the warmth pulls the breath from my lungs. I can't afford to be distracted right now.

"I needed to ea-" DON'T SAY THAT "-needed to keep him alive until I knew everything."

Eloise doesn't look horrified at the admission, expression still curious, so I continue. "But you were hurt because he got out. I was too complacent." My eyes are drawn to the blooms of purpling marks on her neck. I want to soothe them. It's agony, knowing I cannot heal them, knowing I was too late.

"So, you were taking his memories." The way each question is phrased like a statement is unsettling.

I give another nod.

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

"No. I'll remember-” Don’t grab her hands. Don’t grab them. “- and I'll take care of it. I promise."

I should wait for her to speak now. Give her some time to process.

All sounds start to fade. The pounding of her heartbeat. The whisper of breath. The hum of electricity in the walls. The whistle of wind outside. All silent. The air feels heavy, but I know the sensation is just in my mind. My skin prickles under imagined discomfort.

Please say something.

Should I say something? What should I say? Should I even say anything? Eloise seems to be accepting me but, what if I say something now and I ruin everything. Do I wait? How long can I wait? What if staying silent makes things worse? I want to go back to how things were before he ruined it … but how? Should I try and…

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

Pain lances through my tongue as I snap my teeth together. I taste ash and iron.

Did she just say…she wants me to stay? Eloise wants me to stay! Is this real? Am I dreaming?

She’s not moving. Lips pursed tight. Reluctant to speak, but I can wait.

Please. Please let them this be what I think it is. Stay still. Be patient.

Right there. A shift in posture. A skip in the pulse. I can feel myself tense as I shift forward, ears pricked to listen.

"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."

Love?

“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...”

Oh. I see. She only wants me to be him. My face itches, so I hold it stiff. I should nod. If I agree then I can stay. The muscles in my neck don’t want to cooperate, but I force them. I want to stay. If being Cameron is the only way they will love me now, then I will … I can forget my own face in favour of his.

"What is your name?"

It’s like everything grinds to a halt for just a moment, suspended in the silence of a skipped beat on a cd before the music starts to play again. I feel like I’m falling. The mimicry of the fragile muscle that forms the fundamental cornerstone of human function flutters in my chest. I crush it before it can destabilise my form. "What?"

"I can't keep calling you Not-Cameron. I want to know your name."

She wants to know…

Her gaze feels like it’s pulling me in. For a moment, my vision restricts to those pools of obsidian in those green irises. Beautiful.

I want this to be true. I want to be closer, be known and loved as me, not Cameron, me. Please let this not be a dream.

"Alright, love." I move a little closer and hold out my hand.

She takes it. Her hands are steady and warm. I can do this. Focus on the warmth and be calm.

"My name...my real name...is Dieter." As I speak, I allow myself to relax; finally letting my real voice out. Vocal cords vibrating at their full capacity for once. "It was given to me. To be my own."

“Dieter.”

Oh. OH. She said my name. She said my name. I haven’t heard another say my name in … there it is again! It’s like she’s practicing. Cute! Again. Every time she says my name, it feels so warm. Everything is going a little fuzzy around the edges. I feel tingly. It’s nice.

Wait! Has my face changed? No, still normal … almost. Just the eyes are wrong, an easy fix. I blink to hide the shift. Restricting the muscles to pull the pupils back into a circle.

There’s more warmth. Not the rush beneath the skin of my cheeks but over them. Those gentle hands grab my face and pull.

I follow. Twisting off the sofa onto a knee. But she keeps urging me forward to lean over her. What is she doing? No matter what it is, I will follow. I brace against the sofa. Don’t crush her. Have balance.

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

"Hide what?"

"The hearts, they're cute."

The hearts? Oh, the shape in my eyes. With a thought, I shift my pupils. "Okay.” Everything relaxes. "Need anything else."

Her chest rises when they let go of my face. Those beautiful eyes start to glow. No, not a glow, a reflection created by excessive water.

Oh no. Please don’t cry. Was changing my eyes the wrong move, have I frightened her?

Eloise retreats into the cushions. "I need a hug or I'm gonna cry. Please."

That is a lie. Her heart betrays her with its staccato beat. But I want this too much to care. At least she’s not running from me. I won’t turn away such a gift.

I comply with the request. Immediately crawling into the corner of the couch and wrapping my arms under her, one behind her back, another looped under her knees. She doesn’t protest when I lift, limply burrowing against my chest. I stand and turn, sitting in the same place she had to cradle her on my lap. I can feel the trembling in her arms, too tight, clinging to me with desperation like she wants to burrow beneath my skin. I would let her. The puff of warm air in the crook of my neck sends a shudder running through me. She feels so perfect in my arms. Curled up and all mine.

I bring one hand up to the back of her head, gently running the pads of my fingers over her skull in gentle clawing motions. The heavy sigh she lets out at the feeling matches the decrease in her energy. She’s exhausted. She can’t run now.

Something within me stirs. It’s a contented feeling that bubbles up in my throat and sets my larynx shaking again. Humans don’t make that sound. I constrict my glottis and hold it, killing the sound in my throat.

"I like the...the purring...t...too." She’s sobbing, shaking in my arms, but the words are forced out in between shaky cries. She sags into my arms and pulls closer. How precious. How wonderful. This is more than I’ve ever dreamed.

A memory rises. One belonging to a veterinarian. Cats purr at a frequency of 25 to 140 hertz and it can help reduce stress in humans. Mimicking the sound is easy, a purr comes naturally to me, constricting and dilating my glottis rapidly. I count the vibrations, trying to match the correct pitch.

It must be working since she finally starts to let herself relax, limbs going lax and heavy.

I also relax my form, shifting the bones behind layers of muscle and fat to create a more comfortable surface for her. She needs the rest after all.

"I love you. I will make it right. I promise." I keep my tone even.

I can feel the fatigued weight in her limbs. Like a rising tide swelling over her skin, but she’s fighting it.

I want to soothe her fears. I want to reassure her. "You can sleep, meine liebe. Everything will be fixed when you wake."

The sobs wracking her body begin to lose their edge. Bright eyes start to lose their focus and dull as the lids droop closed.

Eloise begins to drift. The racing energy in her mind slowly diminishing. I can’t help myself, reaching out and brushing the edges of her consciousness with my own.

I see darkness. The last spark of consciousness in her mind is as brilliant as a star in the void of the dreaming abyss.

How wonderful it is to be loved.

Oh.

*                          *                   *

I do not like eating my prey cold, but I do it anyway.

Within the grey matter hide the last vestiges of his formative memories.

Warmth.

Pressure.

Cold.

Hunger.

Pressure.

Warmth.

Sated.

Warmth.

Sound.

Love.

The memories are disjointed. Confusing. The first fledgeling thoughts of a half-formed ego. But they contain that last crucial spark that cements my hold on this form. Mimicry becomes reality. The last piece needed to complete the puzzle of DNA, and with the pattern complete I now have full control over this form. It is mine.

These hands are mine.

This face is mine.

This form is mine.

Cameron is gone.

But everything that belonged to him, now belongs to me.

The soul is gone now. The body is mine.

I told Eloise I would make everything right, so I will.

I will make it right and she will be mine. Forever.

Now, where did I put that bleach?