As I pushed into my bedroom and stripped off my uniform to take a shower, I was filled with the unshakeable urge to go to Rosalie. To see that she was alright, still sleeping soundly in her bed. And by the time I’d done washing, the curse mark on my arm was throbbing as if begging me to follow through on that need. But I had no good reason to go marching down to her cell block and charging in there. The other guards would think I’d lost my damn mind and I didn’t need to draw attention to myself.
