I screeched as my ears roared; my eyes slid to the back of my head.
Round and around and around.
I suffered the worst vertigo spell in years.
I trembled so much, no one could hold me. They let me go, leaving me to suffer alone. They had experience dealing with me—they knew when I became like this, touch was the worst kind of torture.
V and my father guided me to the floor where I kneeled with my head on my knees, trying to hold on to the world that’d suddenly gone mad.
Down was up and up was down.
Their voices plaited into concern, rushing around, making the spinning worse.
Sickness became nausea which became overwhelming.
I couldn’t get it under control. I was completely at the mercy of my broken mind.
I threw up.
A small, tiny voice in my head squeaked.Vertigo or pregnant?
I threw up again.
Never. Not possible. I couldn’t be.
“Shit, Threads.” Vaughn squatted beside me. His hands twitched to touch me. To rub my shoulders and tuck my hair behind my ear. But he knew to stay away. If he rocked me or tried to comfort me, my body might hurl me into another episode.
It wasmewho had to stand—me who had to heal.
My father stood over us, his scruffy jaw clenched. He used to be such a support system—such a much-needed part of my life. Now, he made me shatter. My newfound strength slowly siphoned into a cesspit of misery.
The world continued to swing like a crazy pendulum, sending my brain sloshing.
V whispered, “You’re here. You’re safe. Those motherfucking sons of bitches will pay for what they did. Starting with Jethro Hawk.”
Don’t touch him!
His voice had a duplex effect. My past personality sank into his capability and brotherly strength—grateful that he was now in charge. While the new Nila cringed from relying on anyone but herself.
I had him to thank for my freedom.
I had him to thank for my misery.
I lifted my head. Vaughn’s black eyes stared into mine, and the love I felt for my twin broke through. I hated myself for my previous thoughts.
I was safe. I should be so grateful.
But every minute that ticked past, I vowed to go back. Not because I’d been brainwashed into accepting torture or pain, but because death had tried to claim me only for love to save me instead. Jethro had brought me to life. I wouldn’t leave him behind.
We’ll both break free. We have to.
My heart twinged thinking of Jethro. I was lucky enough to be loved and accepted by a family who cared for me, even if they never really knew me.
What did he have?
A prison cell that’d existed all his life.
A future that might destroy him.
