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I blinked, and she was farther away than she had been.

No. Not far. She couldn’t be far.

My chest tightened. I looked down and saw my hand wrapped around her wrist. I didn’t remember reaching for her. I didn’t remember crossing the space between us. Her skin was warm under my fingers, and her pulse beat fast, fast, fast, like a trapped bird slamming against my palm.

I loosened my grip. Then I tightened it again. If I let go, she might vanish.

“M-Malakar,” she said, voice trembling. “You’re hurting me.”

“Fuck.” I shoved both hands into my hair and pulled until my scalp burned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

There was blood on my knuckles. When did that happen?

I stared at the red lines split across my skin. The wall beside me had a smear on it. A dent in the plaster. White dust on the floor.

I punched the wall. I didn’t remember. I remembered Starla’s voice. I remembered my mother in the corner. I remembered wanting to keep my bluebird safe from the dark.

Then nothing. A black bite missing from the middle. My stomach turned. Not from guilt. No. It was fear.

The kind I never admitted to. The kind that crawled under my ribs and chewed. The kind that said I could lock every door in this house and still not keep myself from becoming him.

Starla’s eyes dropped to my hand, then back to my face. She looked scared. Of course she did. Everyone looked scared once they saw too much. I thought she was different.

My mother looked scared. Then empty. Then gone.

“You’re going to leave,” I said.

She shook her head too quickly. “No. I said I’d stay.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” My voice cracked around the words. “You’re lying because you’re smart. Because you know what I am. You’re looking at the door even when your eyes aren’t on it.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. Her hands were still shaking, but she didn’t look away. She should have. Any sane girl would have looked away. Any sane girl would have learned not to feed the thing staring back.

But Starla looked right at me like she could see the rot and the boy buried underneath it.

I hated her for that. I needed her for that.

My mother whispered again.

She’ll run when you sleep. Just like I did.

I shook my head hard enough to make the room blur. “Shut up.”

Starla’s face paled. “I didn’t say anything.”

Now she knew there were voices in the walls. Ghosts in the corners. A dead woman was still walking through the rooms of my skull, begging me not to become the man who ruined us both.

Too late, Mom. Too fucking late.

I laughed, but it came out wrong.

Starla took one tiny step back. Something inside me snapped.

“No,” I said again, softer this time. “Don’t move away from me.”