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“No, shut up! You’re trying to trick me again, aren’t you? Don’t you turn against me too, bluebird.” I grabbed her by the jaw. “I just need you, got it? You’re all I need. I can be good, as long as you love me.”

I tried to remember that feeling, seeing her in that room, surrounded by bones and decayed hearts. I couldn’t let her end up like that. She was special to me. Ever since I saw her, ever since she was the first girl to look at me and not run away. She loved me. Maybe she didn’t know it, but she did love me. Why else would she have been so nice to me?

She loved me. I loved her.

“No—I’m not. I’m sorry, Malakar. I’m just trying to help. I want you to feel ok. You scare me sometimes when you get angry. I love being with you when you’re nice. It makes me feel good. I feel safe when you’re good.” She touched my hand. Tears were leaking from her eyes. Fear whirled behind those green eyes.

I didn’t want to scare her. I wanted her to love me. Maybe I could control myself, maybe I could hold the monster back. She was the only thing keeping me from slipping into the dark.

I killed the others too quickly. It didn’t take much. They just didn’t live up to what I needed, what I wanted. My sweet bluebird asked me why I never let them go. How could I let them go? They gave me company. Even their bones, and their ghosts. I could still feel them.

But I won’t have to do that anymore if Starla stayed. It would be so easy to keep Starla here forever. To make her mine. To never let her out of my sight. I had to. I had to. I had to.

A figure ran past me. I looked toward the corner. My mother stood there. Her eyes were sad, and her skin was burnt. I could hear her words in my head.

Don’t do this, son. Don’t turn into your father. You can still do the right thing.

I shook my head. “Fuck off!”

Starla jumped back. Her hands were shaking. She looked at the door, probably calculating if she could run.

“No! Stay. I wasn’t talking to you. I promise. Okay? I’ll be good, I’ll be good. I want you to stay.” Desperation clung onto my breath. I could feel it digging into me like a parasite. Stay, stay, stay. Or else, I’ll bury you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’t slip into the dark, don’t fucking do it.

“Okay,” she whimpered. “I’ll stay. I will. I’m sorry.”

That’s all I needed. All I wanted. As long as my bluebird was with me, I could stay afloat.

I repeated it in my head until it stopped sounding like words.

Stay.

Stay.

Stay.

The walls breathed around us. I could hear them swelling, shifting, whispering under the paint. My mother was still in the corner, her skin burned black around the edges, eyes wet with all the things she never saved me from.

Don’t do this, son.

I looked at Starla, but for one second, her face was wrong. Her hair was darker. Her eyes were my mother’s. Then they were Starla’s again. Then they were all the girls before her, stacked inside one body, all of them staring at me like I was already too far gone to pull back.

My hands started to shake. I hated when they shook. My father’s hands never shook. His were steady when he locked doors. Steady when he held my mother down. Steady when he made me drink that bitter white powder and told me to be a man.

Mine shook like there was still a boy trapped inside them. I curled my fingers into fists until my nails bit skin.

“Malakar?” Starla whispered.

Her voice hit something soft in me, and I fucking hated it. The room tilted.

For a moment, I wasn’t in front of her anymore. I was eleven again, lying on the floor with my body dead and my mind floating above it. Blue light from the television. My mother’s song. My father’s breathing. The taste of powder on my tongue.

Fly away, sweet Milo.

“No,” I snapped.

Starla flinched.