“Are you trying to kill yourself?” he demands. His eyes cut through me as he speaks, splitting me open from head to toe. “You look like you’re about to faint, Sadie. It’s not a very pretty image.” My lungs are functioning well enough now that I manage to pant out a reply. “What are you getting so worked up for? I’m the one gasping for air over here.” He makes a small, angry sound with the back of his throat, like a scoff and a sigh at the same time. “You don’t get it, do you?” “Get what? What are you on about?” But he doesn’t answer the question.
