He took another step toward Trish, who tilted her neck to the side happily. He grabbed her by the jaw with both hands and twisted sharply. I heard the sickening crack of her spine splintering. Unbalanced by her head, attached only by limp folds of skin and muscle, her body fell over sideways, the mangled bones crunching as they hit the floor.
I screamed, mutedly, in outrage, unable to move. He turned to me again and leaned down, looking me in the eyes with a sick smile. Then his mouth crashed against mine. He pulled back a long time later.
“Consider her a down payment,” he murmured intimately. “Your cousin is up next.”
I tried to punch him, but I couldn’t move. He kissed the tip of my nose and smiled.
As usual, it was a relief to wake up.
My right shoulder ached oddly, and I realized that I had, in real life, been trying to punch the nonexistent Mr. Warren/Adrian hybrid, but had prevented myself from doing so by the simple fact that I had been asleep. I rubbed my shoulder and looked at my phone. It was three a.m.
I turned on my bedside lamp and waited for morning, knowing that if I closed my eyes, I’d see him breaking Trish’s neck over and over again. Even if I did manage to fall asleep, I’d simply have another nightmare. Most nights I woke up and started crying because I was so tired. Lately, I’d gotten so tired I couldn’t even cry.
When my alarm went off, I got up and took a hot shower, wishing the steam would refresh me somehow, but it didn’t. When I got out and looked in the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked old. Purple bags hung under my eyes and my cheeks were downright gaunt. My sweater hung off me like it had been made for my uncle. I hadn’t even realized that I’d started wearing belts to keep my jeans up.
This was getting ridiculous.
I pulled my makeup bag out and actually took the time to put on foundation and blush to hide the fact that I looked like I had an eating disorder. It did a fairly good job of masking the signs of exhaustion, but there wasn’t much I could do about the fact that I looked thin to the point of anorexic.
I blinked rapidly as tears threatened. My emotions were on such a tightrope and the smallest things set me off. I was tired of being tired; tired of worrying; tired of living like this.
At lunch, Trish looked at the full two feet of space between Adrian and I, then stared at him pointedly. In response, Adrian scooted marginally closer and kissed me briefly. Without even thinking, I stiffened. He frowned as he pulled back.
“You could look a little happier,” he muttered in my ear.
I wanted to hit him.
“Sorry,” I said quietly, and dragged a smile out of somewhere, pasting it on my face.
He stared at me and flinched.
I sat through my classes with all the muscles in my body clenched to keep from exploding. I had to keep my atoms together by force of will so they wouldn’t float off. I had to keep myself together.
Trish asked me if I was okay. I smiled. I said I was great, just tired.
Eventually, inevitably, the bell rang again, and I had to go to the library for study hall. When I arrived, Adrian was already sitting, working on homework. At least I didn’t have to make eye contact with him.
Five minutes before the end of class, he looked up. “I’ve arranged to have you spend the night at Trish’s. I’ll pick you up as soon as you get there. You can stay in the same room as last time.”
He looked down at his homework again. I looked down at mine.
End of discussion.
Never before had it been driven home so bluntly that what we had was a business arrangement. What I had to remember, what I absolutely had to hold on to, was the knowledge that it hadn’t always been like that, and it didn’t always have to be. Whatever the hell was going on with Adrian, I’d figure it out. I’d get him back.
I had to.
*
Trish and I had a few hours to kill before I snuck over to the mansion. I was staring blankly at an essay I was supposed to be writing while Trish was on Pinterest browsing for winter formal dresses.
“Are you and Adrian even going?”
I blinked, snapping out of my daze. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
Trish shook her head, irritated. “I don’t get him. I mean, I’ve never really gotten him, but I especially don’t get him now.”
“Me, either.”
Trish stared at me for a moment. “Y’know, Mystic, if you’re unhappy, you could dump him.”
I laughed, suddenly—because the truth was, I couldn’t. Not when the mysterious Council decreed that we should still be dating. I wasn’t just worried about what they’d do to me if I refused—I was really worried about what they’d do to Adrian. What had he said? “The consequences for disobedience are high”?
“I love him,” I deflected. “But it feels like he’s lost interest in me, and I have no idea why.”
Trish frowned. “That sounds like a very good reason to no longer be dating someone.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to break up with him. I just want him back, the way it used to be.”
Trish nodded, looking thoughtful. “Well, then, you can call me fairy godmother from now on, because I’ve got an idea.”
I shook my head. “I’m not having sex with Adrian to get him to like me again.”