My eye twitches.
I throw the pillow off my face and stare at the ceiling again. “I’m going to strangle that stupid asshole.”
My body doesn’t want me to move, but I do anyway.
This stops tonight.
I sweep the pillows off the bed and brace both hands on the mattress before I sit up.
“Okay,” I breathe, teeth clenched. “Fine. Didn’t need a spine anyway.”
I swing my legs to the floor and breathe. The pounding overhead continues.
“Of course you’re stillat it,” I mutter. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
I push to stand, but my back fires a warning shot down my leg, so I grab the dresser to stay upright.
“Fuck off,” I whisper to no one, just generally.
I shuffle to the chair in the corner, where Celeste left a care kit like a proud mom. Granny slippers and a fluffy robe.
I step into the slippers—they’re the kind with a little arch support, bless her—and shrug into the robe.
Thudthudthudthud.
The hallway is quiet when I step out. The elevator is waiting for me. I stare at it.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
I could just walk in, press one button, and be done in thirty seconds, but my chest already tightens just thinking about it.
Nope. Absolutely not. I can’t do it.
I turn and march—well, shuffle—toward the stairwell.
Step by step, I climb with one hand gripping the railing.
By the third step, I’m sweating.
By the fifth, I’m swearing.
By the seventh, I consider death.
“Whoever you are,” I pant, “I hope you step on a Lego. I hope your milk goes bad and you don’t notice until you drink it.”
I can’t hear anything out here because the entire building has amazing soundproofing, except for my ceiling.
“Look at me,” I mutter, hauling myself up the final step. “Look at the life you’ve forced me into. I’m in a robe. I’m on drugs.I’m climbing stairs.”
I pause at the landing before lifting my chin. “I am going to ruin your night.”
And then I keep going.
Six
Beckett
I’ve been in the apartment for a month, and there are still six boxes in the corner of the living room. Tomorrow is a rare day off, and I can finally unpack. Or so I tell myself every time I drag my shadow through the door at one in the morning.
