"Nyx is in real trouble," Wren concludes.
"Why amIin trouble?" a rasp comes from behind me.
Wren and Chris see her before I do since they're sitting opposite me, and their faces fall at her state. I look over my shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"You should be in bed resting."
She shakes her head at me, taking a step toward us as she crosses her arms over her chest.
"I just lost everything." Looking up, she’s clearly trying to hold back tears. "Everything." A sniff, and she adds, "So why am I the one in trouble?"
Her question tells me she hasn't heard the part about Chase being dead, and it's better for now.
I'm struggling to keep my focus every time I see her wounds. He really died too quickly.
"You haven't lost everything," I tell her. "Whatever you need, whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Don't worry."
"I want to know where my dad is," she hisses. "I want my home back. Where the hell am I even supposed to live?"
Her pathetic excuse of a father ran away the second the cops showed up yesterday, too scared anything would fall back on him. He didn't visit her at the hospital. Didn't even call her to tell her where he was going.
"Where do you want to live?" I ask, ignoring her first question.
"In my trailer on the North Shore!" she snaps. "Nowhere near you."
"You're not going back there." I snort. "Not until I've figured out what's happening with you."
She shakes her head, her disappointed eyes scanning me.
She's holding her phone tightly in her right, bandaged hand, and with the left, she snatches her violin case where it's resting against the wall. Wearing nothing but my t-shirt and sweatpants that fit her about ten times too big, she heads toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" I ask casually.
"To the North Shore."
"I just told you not to. I thought you hated that place."
"I do," she snaps. "But nothing is worse than being next to you."
I can't comprehend the fact that she's not doing what she's told. I'm not used to anyone not doing what they're told aroundme, so I wasn't ready to get up and follow her. But when she opens the door, I understand she means it.
"It's too bad you have nothing to blackmail me with anymore, isn't it?" she sneers, eyes narrowing.
The door slams, and I blink at the hallway.
"She'll come back," I say, more to myself than the others.
A couple mocking chuckles spread in the room, and I turn back to Wren and Chris.
"What?" I ask with a little too much violence for my blasé self.
"This is what I call the tipping point," Chris explains, as if I'm a two-year-old.
When they see this brings me no useful information, Wren keeps going.
"See, before that point, you have her in the palm of your hand and can do whatever you want. The tipping point is that very annoying moment when you realize you care too much and wouldn't put any threats into action because you don't want to hurt her or lose her."
"Nyx is terrified of me," I explain. "I make her do whatever I want."
