He lifted me from the hook, pain flooding my system so intensely that the world around me flickered in and out. “Hurts,” I moaned. “I know,” Brix gritted out. “Gonna fix you.” But it wasn’t the physical that hurt; it was Brix. The contact. The pain of his rejection just days ago. “No,” I whispered as I faded. “It’s you touching me. You hate me. It hurts.” And then I was gone.
