Page 492 of Coal Hearts

My skin flushed with sweat.

I shivered with an icy chill.

I waited to vomit for the second time tonight.

Waited for that familiar curse to remind me all over again that the things I wanted were wrong and toxic and had to be purged.

How strange that my dreams had been full of love and togetherness instead of darkness and screams. How tragic that I’d finally begged for someone to see me, and I couldn’t stomach it when they did.

Breathing hard, the gush of nausea slowly faded.

I backed away from the toilet and crashed against the towel rail.

Ow.

Goddamn ow!

I couldn’t do this anymore.

I didn’t want to exist in so much agony, and I didn’t trust my sleep not to torment me.

I’m done.

Grabbing a white bathrobe off the hook, I lurched toward the exit. Shrugging into it, I ripped open our borrowed bedroom door and looked left and right.

Track lighting glowed above the flagstones. Faint and barely there, it granted just enough illumination to slip into the shadows and close the door behind me.

I wouldn’t be able to lock it, but I took the risk that Victor lived up here, and other guests wouldn’t be stupid enough to trespass.

I needed a book.

A thousand books.

If I could lose myself in their pages, then I could—

“How’s she doing?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Holding my rabbiting heart, I spun around and groaned as a fresh wave of misery made me sweat. I blinked at the ghostly figure in the dark then swallowed a curse as I snapped, “Your attempt at giving me a heart attack failed.”

“What a pity.” Dr Belford came toward me. She flicked on a switch. The drafty corridor suddenly glowed with soft sconces. “I was just on my way to check on Ily.”

Ily.

I love you.

Shut up.

“She’s asleep.” I sniffed. “Whatever you gave her knocked her out.”

Not before she knocked out my heart.

The doctor sagged with relief. “In that case, I’ll let her rest a little before I disturb her.”

I nodded and did my best to be civil. “Goodnight.”

Before I could turn away, her weary eyes locked on my left arm. Her brows rose as she noticed the pinprick of blood that’d already soaked through the terrycloth dressing gown. “You’re still bleeding.”