Most blame others for their demons. We’re all victims one way or another, right? But not me. There’s no one else to blame. I got this way all on my own. I’m the fucking monster in this story.
For the first time, I don’t want to be alone. Not one bit. With a perfunctory nod, I walk away. Bad, Elijah. You’ve got the devil in you. She’s already damaged. I’d ruin her.
“Nobody is all good, Brooke. We’re all somewhere on the spectrum of morality, dabbling in shades of grey. There’s no such thing as good and bad. Not really.”
I don’t blame her for what happened in the cafeteria. I deserved it. But the way she came for me… she’s not the timid, yet surprisingly fiery girl I once knew. This isn’t where they send angels. We’re all fucking devils here.
“She was my fucking girl, and no one was allowed to steal her from me. Not even a stupid bird. After that… I called her blackbird every day. Just to remind her of who exactly she belonged to, and that nothing else was allowed to matter to her. Only me.”
The door to leave her room is right there. A better man would walk through it and never return, just like she wants. But fuck that. I never claimed to be a good person.
“You continue to forget the lesson I taught you when we were kids.” Standing at the end of his bed, his luminous eyes prowl over my splayed-out, vulnerable body. He offers me a bleak smile. “You’re fucking mine. You’ve always been fucking mine.”
“Nothing about this place is real, Brooklyn. Don’t you see that yet? It’s all just…” He pauses, grinning and searching for the right word. “An illusion.”