I didn’t say anything. A part of me was confused about exactly what he knew, the other hating myself for having told so many lies that I couldn’t tell which one he meant. My eyes bore into his. He had no idea how right he was. So much had changed. So much about me had changed. And then it hit me. Every time he looked at me these last few weeks, he wasn’t just stealing longing glances. No, he was worried about me. A fraction of my black heart cracked so hard that it outweighed the hunger in my gut.
