I hated leaving. But I had no choice.
Discussing what would happen was one thing.
Watching it come to pass was entirely fucking another.
My skin itched. My heart burst. My thoughts were a turbid wreck.
I need help.
I couldn’t live with myself knowing what would happen to Nila.
You could overdose.
Take a handful of pills and slide into a coma, so I would never have to face the consequences of what this debt would do.
I fisted my hair and kicked the wall.
The small act of violence simmered some of my rage.
I kicked it again.
The pain I used to seek before swallowing tablets flared into being.
I kicked for the third time.
Throbbing agony graced my toes. It calmed me. Helped me focus on the bigger picture, rather than the next few hours.
Finding a certain peace in my fury, I went rogue.
I let down my walls and turned into a beast.
Whirling around, I embraced every inch of my anger—the parts I’d always suffered, the parts I’d barely acknowledged—all of it.
I showed my true insanity.
Nila was right.
I suffered a madness.
And she’d doomed me forever with no cure.
She fucking hates me.
“Shit!” I stalked down the hall and plucked a music box that’d been my great-great aunt’s from a side table. Hurling it onto the floor, I felt a sick satisfaction as springs bounced free and twangs of music serenaded with broken notes.
“Shit!” I speared gold-gilded candlesticks at the tapestry-draped walls.
“Shit!” I kicked over a priceless Frenchcaquetorie.
“Shit, shit,shit!”
Throughout my tirade, all I could think about was what Kes would do.
And how Nila would react. Through trying to save her, I’d lost her forever.
She hates me.
She despises me.
