“You do not know what I need. And you do not get to decide what I’ll think without even talking to me. You left me in your bed alone, Tyler, like I was some twenty-dollar fuck you picked up on the corner,” she growls, her eyes wide and dark. “Never say that about yourself again,” I growl, taking a step toward her. “You have no idea how wrong you are.” Her words have triggered horrible images—memories—almost as if she had just switched the light switch on in a haunted basement. They run through my head, painting my vision with a thick crimson red.
