All This Twisted Glory (This Woven Kingdom, #3)

by Tahereh Mafi

Gasping for breath now, remembering— This was a dream. Yes, a dream, but he knew that, didn’t he? He knew he’d been dreaming, knew she was a figment of his imagination, a manipulation of his mind, a corruption installed in his head— “No,” he breathed. “No—” He was going to be sick. His leg screamed with pain, his hand burned, his head pounded, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe and he’d known—of course he’d known she wasn’t real, he’d known she didn’t actually love him, that she would never—never— “Cyrus?” “NO,” he cried, jolting away from her. “No—no—” “Cyrus—” She reached for him, alarmed, but he tore away, his limbs tangling in the bedclothes. “Don’t— Please—” He dropped his head in his hands. “Oh God—not again—I can’t—I won’t survive it—” “What’s happening?” she said, panicking. “What’s wrong—?” “No—no—NO,” he shouted, falling off the bed. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real—wake up, you fucking idiot—wake up, wake up, WAKE UP—”