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Is it your turn now? You want me on my knees? Because that’s what it looks like You want me to be your bitch the way—

She had slapped him, and it hadn’t made a difference

Anthony made you his bitch?

She had slapped hi him to take the words back, but he had not

And that was the last time they had seen each other…until now

A heavy, nu sensation filled Acheron’s chest as he entered Amelia’s room and sahat she had made of it What could be torn had been ripped into shreds, what could be overturned had been overturned Paintings that had once hung on the wall, curtains that had once covered the s, and the expensive tea set that used to grace the console – all of it was on the floor now

Broken bits and pieces everywhere, but not all of theible

Each time, the strokes of her madness were different, but they all painted the sa mess

“Acheron”

She had finally noticed hi to hi else would kill her, and his chest tightened even more

The silky feel of her hair, the paleness of her skin, and even the sound of her sobs – all of it were terribly, hurtfully familiar

But there were also things that had changed

She used to carry the scent of strawberries all the time, but now she smelled of sweat She had always been the type to take pride in her appearance, but now she looked all dried up, her thinness dangerously beyond as fashionable

The changes did not disgust him at all, but it did make him sad

This was not the Amelia he remembered, and it was for this reason that he could not and would not leave her

“I only wanted a little,” she whispered against his shirt

“I know”

“Wickhaive me any”