Behind me, I hear a sound. A broken, animal howl of grief.
I keep walking. Down the hall. Up the stairs. All the way to my room.
I close the door.
And then I collapse.
I don’t know how long I lie there on the floor, curled into a ball, shaking. Minutes. Hours. Time has lost all meaning. All I can see is his face when I told him to stay away. The devastation. The disbelief. Like I’d reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.
Mrs. Montoni tried to warn me about Cristiano, and I didn’t listen. I feel numb and hollowed out. The girl who walked into his bedroom tonight was a different person entirely, and she didn’t survive.
5
Cristiano
She’s gone.
The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m still on my knees, my hands empty, my chest caving in on itself.
She’s gone.
The words echo through me, hollow and impossible. I stare at the door like it might open again. Hoping the last ten minutes were a nightmare I’m about to wake from.
She doesn’t come back.
A sound tears out of me, raw, animalistic, and broken. I double over, pressing my forehead to the floor, my fingers clawing at the carpet. The pain is everywhere. In my chest, in my throat, in my bones. My heart has been ripped out of me, and I’m drowning in despair.
Don’t ever come near me again.
Her voice. So quiet. So final. Like I was already dead to her.
I am dead. I have to be, because this can’t be what living feels like.
I don’t know how long I stay like that, curled on the floor of my bedroom. Minutes. Hours. The light outside the window fades from gray to black, and I don’t move. Every breath is agony. Every heartbeat is a reminder that I’m alive and still existing in a world where Mina hates me.
Mina hates me.
The thought is a knife, and I turn it over and over, driving it deeper each time.
She looked at me like I was a monster, and maybe I am. Maybe the monster has always been inside me, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the worst moment to reveal itself.
I press my palms against my eyes until I see stars, trying to push down the howl building in my chest. I want to scream. I want to tear this room apart until there’s nothing left but splinters and shards.
But what’s the point? Nothing I destroy will bring her back. Nothing I do will make her look at me the way she used to, with warmth and trust.
What’s the point of existing in a world where Mina Santoro hates me?
I push myself up from the floor, my limbs heavy and aching, and my reflection stares back at me from the mirror across the room. Red-rimmed eyes, hollow cheeks, hair tangled from where I clutched at it.
I feel like a corpse.
But I’m not dead yet.
If I can talk to Mina, I can explain that what happened tonight wasn’t me. I just panicked. I love her too much, and the thought of losing her made me crazy.
I wipe my face with trembling hands and move toward the door.
The hallway is dim and silent. Most of the staff have gone home for the night, and my parents are probably in the east wing, far from here.
