“Maybe I need you to feed me.” What did that mean? “Do it,” he urged. I held the blade, liking how easily the handle fit in my fist, and loving how he was right in front of me, putting a weapon in my hand, and this could all end now. Did he trust me? Or did he think he could stop me in time? He was definitely testing me. Seeing how much I did or didn’t hate him. And he was willing to put himself in danger to find out. All of a sudden, I felt like I did the night I drove his car all those years ago. Like I was dangerous. “I’ll cut you,” I warned him. “Yeah.” “And if I slit your throat?” He
...more
