“I said LEAVE IT!” I heave my body to the side, sending the chair and the mad woman attached to it crashing to the ground.
“Jesus!” He grabs the chair to put us both upright.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I scream as loud as I can.
He jumps to his feet, nostrils flaring, hands fisted, and teeth bared. I don’t blink. I’m the fucking queen of stare offs. Bring it on, arsebadger.
Theo stomps off.
Door slam.
Bang!
Something hits the wall in his bedroom.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I close my eyes and let my cheek rest against the dirty gray carpet.
Twenty minutes—hell, it could be an hour later, I’ve lost sense of time—Theo comes out of his bedroom. I turn my head enough to see him filling a glass with water. His other hand hasa T-shirt wrapped around it. The fabric around his knuckles is tinged with blood.
How did this happen? In a matter of days, I’ve gone from wantingeverythingwith this man to wanting nothing—not even my next breath. It’s as if I was on life support and he pulled the plug. Again, I close my eyes and wait to escape this moment—sleep, unconsciousness, death—it no longer matters. I’m ready to tap out.
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I’m not afraid of death. My mum waits for me with open arms.
*
That voice. Itcomforts me. In my dreams it wraps around me like a warm cocoon. Guarding me. Saving me. Loving me.
“You need to eat and drink.”
I blink open my eyes. It’s dark except for the small lamp on the floor in the corner of the room, glowing yellow. It’s night or early morning. I don’t know. My chair and I have magically found an upright position again. My shoulders burn but my hands and feet tingle with numbness.
That voice. It’s the one from my dreams. But it’s no longer warm. It’s dull and lifeless like the eyes staring back at me. It’s no longer guarding me. Saving me. Loving me.
Why can’t this be a nightmare?
Why can’t I wake up?
“Eat.” Theo holds spaghetti twirled around a fork in front of my face.
I turn my head to the side.
“You’re going to eat.”
He’s so very wrong.
“Drink.” He jabs a straw at my lips.
I bite them together.
“So goddamn stubborn,” he mutters as he stands.
I grunt when he clutches my chin, tipping my head back enough to part my lips. Some sort of sugary juice runs into my mouth and down the sides of my face as I reject his attempts. As soon as he releases my chin, I spit it in his face.
Theo’s expression hardens even more as he lifts his shirt to wipe his face.
“I will not eat. I will not drink. I will not live for you.”
