Or she sees the demon beneath your skin.
Instantly, I’m on edge again. I scan her for religious jewelry or tattoos. None visible. It could be a ploy. A bait and switch— get me talking, then ship me off to some crazy-pants facility. Ican’tbe sent away.
She leans back in her chair and cocks her head. “Rewiring your brain after the trauma and conditioning you’ve experienced takes time and a lot of work on your part, as does confronting the emotional abuse you've endured. You have to be open. You have towantto heal. Are you willing to work with me and my team?”
I stare at my sneakers. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
An echo of what I said to Sebastian.Such a hypocrite,I scoff at myself.
“Not in this.”
Her lips press into a determined line. “Then we will get started on Monday. For now, you will enjoy the rest of your birthday.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I’ve wanted out of here since we arrived. When I return to the lobby, Dad is murmuring to the woman behind the glass, setting up a billion appointments I have no desire to attend.
Fuck, I need a smoke. I’ll wait for him outside. Reaching into my pocket, I slide a cigarette from the pack— that I bought myself legally,thank you very much— and hustle to the exit.
I almost trip.
In the corner, slumped in his chair, staring at his phone, is Andrea’s best friend, Remy. She mentioned he's sick, but I didn't think he wasthiskind of sick.
He looks up.
Shitshitshit.
I’m a deer in the headlights. Andrea can’t know I’m here. No one can.
The panic must be written on my face. He tips his chin at me once, then resumes scrolling on his phone.
“Ready, Bud?”
I thaw slowly. Dad’s anxious eyes rake over me.
“Yeah,” I croak, glancing once more at Remy. He’s absorbed in whatever is on his screen while I silently plead for him to forget he saw me.
He won’t.
Twenty-Nine
SEBA
Helpme follow the right path. Forgive me for my sins. Show me the way. Let me prove my worth. I’ll do anything you ask…
Incense burns my nostrils as I kneel in the back of the chapel. It’s become a cycle— deny, drink, wallow, repent, repeat. Home isn’t safe. School is over. Church is punishment.
I’m drowning.
I open the envelope for the hundredth time and unfold the letter inside. My classmates celebrated their college acceptances with parties and proud posts on social media.
Not me.
My GPA drastically dropped senior year, tanking my average and disqualifying me from any academic scholarships. Despite FMU offering me a position on their team, the only financial assistance available to me is discounted tuition. Even if I live at home, there’s no way I can afford it. It’s not like I can ask for help from Declan and Mom— they’re both strapped as is. And although players are discouraged from working during season, I applied to a bunch of part-time jobs, none of which will give me enough hours to cover the full amount, let alone books and a new computer.
I’ve dug my own grave and gotten stuck at the bottom. I’m shoveling dirt over my head. Everything I’ve worked for is irrelevant. I’m going to end up like my father at a dead-end job, reminiscing on my potential. All because of a sin… one I dream of repeating and taking so much further.
Not touching Cade again has been unbearable. His taste lingers on my tongue, his poison flowing in my veins. Day in and day out, I’m actively fighting the urge to inhale him. When he’s around, it’s like I can’t see anything else. I might’ve been the one devouring him, but he’s the one consuming me.
