I really did.
But now that we’re alone, everything I’ve been holding back is closing in.
Crushing me beneath its weight.
Swallowing feels wrong, breathing feels wrong.
Everything feels bloodywrong.
My fists clench, unclench, then clench again.
I keep repeating the same maddening cycle.
Clench.
Unclench.
Clench.
Clench.
Clench.
Unfucking clench.
Again.
Again.
Fucking again.
I try to hold on to that control I so desperately love, so desperately need right now more than ever.
But it’s impossible.
Because I have a feeling.
And I’m usually right when I have them.
Those feelings, I mean.
And I fucking hate that.
For once in my life, I’d like to be wrong.
Go fucking figure.
But I know it.
I know it in my damn soul.
I’m not.
Wrong.
“I’ll ask again,” I say, my voice darker than I’ve ever heard it. “What the actual fuck, Piper?”
She turns to look at me.
