Page 30 of Map of Pain
Nick pressed his palm against the cool kitchen counter, using the solid surface as an anchor. He needed to quiet the hunter, at least for now. Too much noise inside his head. Too many conflicting narratives battling for dominance. He focused on physical sensations—the worn texture of the countertop, the distant hum of the refrigerator, the metallic taste of fear on his tongue.
The dark stains on his shirt caught his attention again. Blood from the garage, from people who tried to drag him back to the Society. Luka killed them to protect him.
Nick gripped the counter’s edge, knuckles white. His head was too full, too loud. He needed space, needed to think—or maybe he needed to stop thinkingentirely.
“I need to wash up,”he saidsuddenly. The words felt like escape.“It’s been a while since I’ve had a shower.”
The words tumbled out, a desperate shift away from thoughts that threatened to shatter what remained of his sanity. Anything to escape the turmoil in his head, the nauseating realization that everything he believed might be wrong.
Luka’s expression remained neutral, accepting the change in conversation without question. He grabbed his notebook:‘Two bathrooms here. One shower, one bath. Your choice.’
Shower. Quick, efficient. Minimal exposure. Easy escape if necessary. The hunter, still calculating threats even as the rest of him craved the simple comfort of hot water.
“Shower,”Nick confirmed, the single word carrying more weight than he intended. A small step toward normalcy, toward trusting the present moment instead of bracing for the next attack.
As Luka led him down a narrow hallway, Nick couldn’t remember ever encountering someone so patient, so present, soutterlyunlike the monsters he’d known. The thought sent a flicker of warmth in his chest—dangerous, unfamiliar, andimpossiblywelcome.
Chapter thirteen
Show me what you've got, chef...
Nick
Nick stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, the click of the latch offering a small measure of security. The shower beckoned with its promise of hot water and temporary peace.
A folded piece of paper sat on the bathroom counter, his name written in Luka’s neat handwriting across the front. Nick unfolded it, reading the brief message: ‘Going to wash up in the other bathroom. Take your time. You’re safe here.’
The simple reassurance felt like permission to be vulnerable, to let his guard down for however long hot water lasted. Nick set the note aside and began stripping off his blood-stained shirt, the fabric stiff with dried gore from their escape.
The metallic scent clung to the cotton, a reminder of violence that felt both foreign and familiar. He killed vampires before—countless times for the Society—but this felt different. Personal. His jeans followed, and he kicked the pile of filthy clothes into the corner.
How long since either of them had beentrulyclean? The hospital stay didn’t count—he’d been too afraid to shower, too vulnerable with IV lines and Luka nearby. Gas station sinks and quick rinses with bottled water had been his only hygiene for months. Even Luka carried the scent of too many days without proper bathing, though he’d been too polite to mention Nick’s far worse state.
The shower handle turned with a satisfying click, and hot water cascaded from the showerhead in a steady stream. Nick tested the temperature with his fingers—perfect. Not scalding like Gianmarco’s baths, not the punishing ice-cold spray the Society used for conditioning. Just warm, clean water.
He stepped under the stream andimmediatelygroaned with relief. The heat soaked into his muscles, washing away months of tension and grime. His mind tried to drift toward darker memories—cold Society showers, Gianmarco’s porcelain tub—but he pushed those voices down with deliberate force.
Just be here.
The quiet voice that felt like home grew stronger with each passing second under the spray. This was what he wanted—to be Nick again, to experience something as simple as hot water without cataloging threats or seeking approval.
He scrubbedmethodically, working suds across his chest and down his remaining arm. The infection site looked better, pink and healthy instead of the angry red it had been. Luka’s care hadliterallysaved his life. The vampire could have let him die in that junkyard. Instead, he chose to help a hunter who’d been trying to kill him.
From beyond the bathroom door came the faint sound of water running elsewhere in the house—Luka keeping his promise, giving Nick privacy while taking care of his own needs. The thoughtfulness of it struck him again, another small kindness that felt revolutionary.
Water cascaded down his torso, revealing the damage mapped across his skin. Raised scars along his ribs, markings that told a story he didn’t want to read right now. The part of him that was still Nick whisperedfirmly:Not today. Today you’re just Nick, taking a shower.
He didn’t linger on the examination, didn’t trace each mark or relive each memory. Instead, he focused on the sensation of becoming clean, of washing away layers of neglect and fear.
His hair needed cutting. The beard itching his jaw had grown wild. Nick shut off the water and stepped out, water dripping onto the bath mat as he approached the mirror.
The reflection that stared back made his breath catch. Wild eyes in a gaunt face, hair hanging past his shoulders in tangled waves. The beard covered half his features, uneven and unkempt. He looked like a man who’d been living rough for months—which, he supposed, he had been.
Nick dug through his pile of discarded clothes, retrieving his worn boots. Hidden in the left one, wrapped in plastic, was his old driver’s license. Expired now, but the photo showed a different person. Shorter hair, clean-shaven face. Still hollow-eyed but morerecognizablyhuman.
The bathroom had basic supplies—a pair of scissorsprobablymeant for first aid, and a disposable razor that had seen better days. Nick hefted the scissors, testing their sharpness against a strand of hair. They’d do.
He began cutting, working from the back forward. Clumps of dark hair fell into the sink as he carved away months of neglect. The result wasn’t professional, but it wasdefinitelybetter. More like the man in the photo.
