I watched him scrubbing away and let out a cold laugh.
Guilt.
How disgusting.
I went into the bedroom and locked the door behind me.
I sat on the bed. The mirror across from me reflected a body that looked like it belonged to a ghost.
Seven years ago, my cheeks had been full, my stomach soft. A little chubby, even.
Now there was nothing left but skin stretched over bone, held together by a single stubborn breath.
The moon hung alone in the sky.
I opened the door. Mason was asleep on the couch.
I looked at him, cold and still, while his phone rang and rang on the cushion beside him.
I picked it up. The contact name read: Melody Fox.
Something pulled at me, and before I knew what I was doing, I answered.
"Mason, are you coming home tomorrow? I miss you!"
The woman's voice on the other end was sweet, wheedling.
My fingers went white around the phone. I said nothing. I hung up.
Hatred swallowed me whole.
My gaze drifted to the kitchen knife on the counter, then back to Mason, defenseless and sound asleep.
I clenched my teeth. For a reason I couldn't name, something in my chest ached.
If I didn't love him, we would be nothing but enemies, and I would have killed him without hesitation.