He nods, and I don’t miss the way the pads of his fingers search my skin where the cut once was.

Anger flares in my abdomen, but I keep the sugary tone he expects. “It healed enough to hide.”

His eyes glide to mine again and he nods slowly.

“And once again, she’s perfection,” he whispers, letting his hand fall as he steps past me, but before he rounds the corner, he pauses. “I’ll be home the remainder of the day, and I’ll already be at the office by the time you leave for class in the morning, but tomorrow night, we’ll celebrate.”

“We don’t have to.” I shake my head. Please, no. “We have... plenty more nights for that.”

“We will, yes, but you will only have one eighteenth birthday.”

My face falls and he brings his glass to his lips. “Our guests will begin arriving at seven, be sure you’re ready.” He turns and walks away.

And I’m left standing in the middle of the room having no fucking clue where to go from here.

But I know where I won’t be going, and that’s to school tomorrow.

I didn’t sleep more than an hour or two and all the time I sat awake did me no good. I couldn’t form a single thought and staring at myself in the giant mirror across from this ridiculous bed, only seems to fog my mind more.

The girl in the mirror, she was beginning to recognize herself not twenty-four hours ago, but she’s fading to black now.

Suffocating.

Sinking.

This is why I kept my relationships at face value.

I hate the way my body feels, as if it’s tied to a tower, suspended so high that the air’s too dense to breathe, the clouds too countless to find my way through, the harsh wind a cool slap in the face.

There is no escape, this house is my tower, and the hand that sweeps across my skin is my own, a desperate attempt to hold on to the girl within, whoever the hell she is.

The perfect daughter?

The playful paramour?

The desolate doll.

I need to get out of here.

I need to see Ransom.

As if my mother has not only the power to dictate my life but the ability to read my thoughts, her curt tone breaks through, pulling me from my mind and placing herself inside it.

I turn toward the door, knowing she’ll be headed for it soon enough, so while I have a second, I call Cali to see if she heard anything about Jules. She shares she’s awake and in recovery, but nothing else has changed. We still can’t see or talk to her.

“I’m staying home, I don’t want to deal with the questions from people who pretend to care.” She yawns into the line.