I knew more about her for never having spoken to her. We didn't need to. Because the way she looked at me sometimes, that said it all. She wanted me. She didn't mind that I'd stop by her apartment late, or that I'd watch her sleep, buried under her gray blanket, while the stars strung around her room blinked on and off to the rhythm of her breathing.


31. Adam

"I'm sorry," I said, and part of me was.

I reached for her. She struggled, of course. The others did too. I closed my hands around her throat, and pinned her down with my legs.

"You don't have to do this," she pleaded. "Please, Adam."

Please, Adam.

Please, Adam

Avery did not want to die, this much was clear. But I couldn't stop myself. The voice in my head was far too loud, too angry, always pushing me to my breaking point.

It whispered, all the time, until there was nothing left.

I glared at her, tightened my grip, and watched the life flicker out of her emerald eyes.

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