I still don’t know why, but it explains why the police were so quick to close the investigation.
My aunt always told me they were real estate agents. But now it’s clear to me that they were part of Skynet.
The company Marcus’s father owns with that monster.
Did Marcus know? Did I actually fall in love with the villain?
He looked guilty. He looked apologetic. Most of all, he looked heartbroken.
We talked about my parents more than once.
My hands shake as I unlock the door and push it open.
All the pain and heartache I went through as a result of Mom andDad’s death happened because ofMarcus’sfamily. And he fucking knew.
It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re done.
Once again, I’m alone. Unwanted. Thrown away.
I see Ryan’s face in my head, his smile sinister. My mom’s glare. My father’s angry shout.He killed them.
The knock on the door from that night.“Your parents were in an accident.”
The CPS lady pushing me into a car with nothing but a small suitcase.“Foster care isn’t so bad, honey.”
The click of the lock when my foster parents locked me away. For a year.
My aunt looking guilty and sad.
My heart broke. It’s breaking now. All over again.
Toothless pads up to me when I enter, meowing loudly and rubbing against my ankles. I crouch to pet him absently.
“I don’t even think you can save me right now, bud,” I whisper.
There’s so much pressure in my body, I feel like I might explode. My hands feel hot, my fingers twitchy as they dig under my waistband and tear at the skin there. I can already feel blood beneath my nails from when I started to scratch on the ride home, but I can’t seem to relieve the pressure. The voice in my head is so loud right now, grinding on what little sanity I have left.
He’s gone. He didn’t want you.
Your foster family locked you up.
You’re a burden to your aunt—a chore.
Your parents are dead.
I stand and stomp my feet like a little kid. “Shut up!” I screech. T darts away at my sudden outburst.
I stumble into the bathroom, tears flooding my eyes and streaming down my cheeks as I pull my hair and stare at the drawer below the sink.
“No, no, no,” I say around a sob. “I don’t want to.”
Except I do.
My heart is beating so fast, and my head hurts.
No one wants you.
With shaky hands, I yank open the drawer, the contents clattering, and grab the rectangular razor blade.
