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“Our Lady of Sorrows,” he says, taking my hand. “Remember?”
Watching Sy make an attempt at compassion is like watching a bear use a pair of tweezers.
“Ten is the best you can be. You know what’s real, so much that you don’t even think to question it, but you also feel it. The realness, I mean. Everything is crisp and clean, like a new sheet of white paper.”
“One is the worst you can be. Nothing feels real except for the certainty that nothing is real, and that’s the dangerous part about it.
Lavinia Lucia was the love of my goddamn life, and I would have done anything for her.
It’s the first time I’ve really considered it. What if I’ve lost them—and her?
“The question is, what—or who—are you willing to fight for?”
“...bring her back from the brink of death and all she cares about is that stupid cat.” A door slams, and another opens. “Where are you, you fucking—there you are. Stay still.” Rustling and cursing follows. “Come here, you little shit!” he says. “Don’t you fucking hiss at me!”
I feel like everything is finally slotting together. Lavinia is better. Remy is acting like himself. Nick is going to come back, and we’re going to be good. All of us.
The more I think about it, the more I need to know. It’s stupid. All it’ll do is rub salt into the wound, stinging at the rawness of losing her, but now that she’s finally here, I need a piece of her. Any piece.
It isn’t until I reach out to hook my finger around a lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear, that she reacts at all.
“Every piece of knowledge that’s gone into your head these last two years has gone into mine. I know every fucking inch of you.”
“Those years you spent locked away, I was locked away with you. You didn’t know it. You didn’t even care. But you see, Little Bird, I’m the lawyer in this clumsy little metaphor you so arrogantly walked in here with. I could have left anytime, but I didn’t. I stayed. I studied. I reached the limits of my enlightenment, and you know what I learned?”
“Hate is big, baby. Bigger than love. People move mountains for hate. They kill for it. They fuck because of it. They feed it, stoke it, nurture it.”
I wasn’t lying that day when I explained to Remy that I need things when I’m near her. Her attention. Her touch. Any of her. All of her.
I know the admission was a mistake the second she reaches for the gun in her lap, because there’s a violence in her eyes, and it’s screaming. It promises pain, misery—death if it can give it.
“We could have been good together,” I tell her, testing the weight of the gun in my palm. “If you would have given me one fucking chance, we could have—”
“Don’t let me out until you stop hating me,” I decide, voice gruff. “It’s all the same to me.”
Remy points out, “The punch was embarrassing, though.” I shoot him a warning look. “Less commentary from the peanut gallery, Remy!”
N: Withdrawn. Exhibiting signs of injury but predictably unwilling to speak about it. Low mood, irritable. Subject being a little bitch.
“I know my love isn’t worth anything to you, Lavinia.” His other hand brushes mine where it hangs, limp at my side. “But maybe theirs will be.”
“I’m not worth it. I’m not worth any of this.” His fingers grasp, squeeze, eyes piercing through mine. “You’re worth more.”
Nick loves me.
I can see it in his eyes when the mask wavers, but mostly, I just… know. There’s a good possibility he has for a long time, and...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
I’ve lived so long without any choices that I’ve forgotten the havoc they bring. To choose is a freedom. The freedom to win. The freedom to lose.
while Remy leans against the other, teasing Archie with a string.
I need Lavinia to be mine like I need to breathe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to have more of those soft, sweet moments.
If I’m going to be anyone’s weapon, then I’m going to be hers.
Expresses a deep concern for her stupid fucking asshole cat, who I did feed.
