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Chapter 16

Luna

The razor feels unnaturally heavy in my hand. But the pills do, too. Both are tantalizingly familiar.

The blade offers me a momentary release.

So do the drugs.

If I open my skin and feel the blood trickle down my leg, I will experience the rush of dopamine that is so very addictive. I will take back control of my emotions.

But it will not last, and the come down, the guilt, the shame, will be almost unbearable.

The pills do not carry the same risks. I hate that I depend on them. But they are meant to help me not hurt me.

That is what I am telling myself as I stare at them.

I run my finger over the foil packet. The temptation to hear the ‘pop’ the foil makes when I free the pill is almost unbearable. My body aches with need for it.

But not taking them is the only control I have over him.

Lucien.

In the dark, I close my eyes and visualize the razor and the pills and how they look in my pale aching hands. One allows me to claim some control over my emotions. The other offers control over my circumstances.

But if I don’t take the pills, I will be in too much pain to even contemplate finding a way out of here.

I am still trying to make my choice when the bedroom door clatters open. Lights flicker to life, but they are muted and cast a dim glow instead of a powerful illumination.

Still, I blink to adjust my eyes.

Lucien is standing in the doorway, breathing hard. Chest rising and falling. He strides toward me, slamming the door closed as he moves.

“What are you doing with that?” He points at the razor.

Looking at it now, seeing it in my palm, I’m not sure whether I am more or less tempted to use it.

Before I can answer, he snatches it from me and throws it across the room. It meets the wall with such force the plastic handle snaps in two.

“Take the pills,” he says.

I tighten my fist around the pill packet. “Tell me why I’m here. Why I’m really here. Then I’ll take them.”

“You are in pain.” He growls and takes hold of my wrist. “Take the pills.”

Staring up at him, tears fill my eyes. I try to blink them away, but I can’t. I look away from him. His grip loosens, and he moves away from me.

When he returns, he’s holding a glass of water.

I let him take the packet from my hand and free two pills. When he presses them back into my palm, he holds the glass to my lips.

Suddenly, every ounce of fight is gone.

I do not argue.

My body is pleading with me to give in.

The pain is too much.