Chapter 292 Lyla
Vanessa pointed toward a metal door at the far end. "You can bathe in there and change your clothes," she said softly, her voice still carrying a trace of relief.
Liam nodded, running a hand slowly through his messy, soot-streaked hair. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and tired. He didn’t even try to smile there was no strength left for that right now. His fingers tangled in the grimy strands of his hair for a second before he dropped his hand and started walking toward the door she had pointed at.
When he got there, he pushed the door open with one hand, and the first thing that caught his eye was a tall mirror propped up against the wall. It wasn’t fancy or mounted just leaning there, like it was dragged in and forgotten. Still, it reflected the entire room, and when Liam stepped fully inside and shut the door behind him, his eyes locked onto his own reflection.
He froze.
For a second, he didn’t even recognize the person staring back at him.
His skin was blackened with soot and smoke, especially around his neck and jawline. His hair, once thick and soft, now stuck out in wild, stiff tufts, coated in ash and grime. His shirt was torn at the collar, and one sleeve was hanging by threads. There were faint scratches and smears of blood along his arms. He looked like someone who had been pulled out of hell.
No wonder people were staring at him earlier when he went out to get food and clothes. No wonder the woman at the counter looked so uncomfortable, like she didn’t want him standing too close. He knew he wasn’t exactly clean, but this... this was a different level.
"Jesus..." he whispered to himself, taking a slow step closer to the mirror, examining his face. His lips were cracked, and there was even soot lining the edges of his eyelids. It was a wonder Vanessa hugged him without restraint.
With a long exhale, Liam began peeling the ruined clothes off his body, piece by piece. He tossed the shirt into a small corner of the bathroom, then kicked off his boots and the rest of his gear.
He folded the clean clothes and placed them neatly on the flat surface just in front of the mirror. There was no shelf, just a wooden stool, but it did the job. Then he stepped into the shower, twisting the handle.
Fifteen minutes later, Liam stepped out of the shower, wiping the steam off the mirror with a towel. His reflection looked more like him now, clean, sharp-eyed, and alive. He quickly dressed up.
He stepped out of the bathroom quietly, towel in hand, his damp hair sticking slightly to his forehead.