At that, I go still.
I hear it again: Lukas, what are you doing to me?
But it’s not Rae’s voice saying it anymore.
She stands where Rae stood a moment ago. Her hair is thinner than it was when we met, and frayed at the ends. Dark circles ring her eyes. She’s lost weight—too much weight. The bones of her clavicle jut out beneath the thin straps of a white cotton sundress with blue flowers on the hem.
I’m the one doing this to her. Life with me is killing her one day at a time. She’s wasting, wasting, wasting away.
Soon, I’ll finish the job.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she begs. Her voice is tired. So f*****g tired.
“I’ll do whatever I see best,” I snarl. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”
“I said no. I’m done with this argument, Elena. Don’t bring it up again.”
Her eyes meet mine.
