“You need to stop! You’re sick. You can’t do this with me!” “You want me!” he rushes out. I stare at him, shaking my head. “You want me, and you deny it. You love—” “I don’t.” He glares at me, eyes watering, until they aren’t on me any longer. “Who the fuck are you?” Chris snaps, his rage building. His eyes flicker between me and the person now standing behind me. “Who is he, Stacey?” I know who it is without the need to turn. I can sense him; I can always feel when he’s nearby.
