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“My, you’re eager. Aren’t you going to ask my name first?” “Nah. Already know it.” With a perfect, wide grin, Emmett Brodie deposits his phone into my hand. It’s opened to the New Contact page, except the name field has already been filled out. Mrs. Brodie.
“C’mon, Mrs. Brodie. The quicker we get through the formalities, the quicker we get to the fun stuff, like my ring on your finger and you in my bed for the rest of our lives.”
I don’t know how to fix his hurt, because I’m drowning in my own. I don’t know how to love him through this, because I don’t … I don’t know how to love myself through this.
“I hate this fucking body, for not working properly. I hate my fucking brain, every thought in my head that reminds me I’m a failure. I hate the jealousy, the way it makes me burn with rage to see everyone else get what we want so badly without having to go through even an ounce of the pain we do. I hate that I want people to feel the same pain.” Her fists tighten in her hair as she spins away. “God, what’s wrong with me? I don’t want anyone to go through this, but I’m so fucking tired of feeling alone in it.”

