Page 67 of The Duplicity of Thieves

I toss the book to the side with a scream. It thuds against the wall and slides down in a flutter of pages.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

“Fuck!” I scream, rubbing my hands over my eyes. I haven’t slept in a week since that conversation, avoiding the nightmares that accompany my thoughts. Flashes of the carnage terrorize my closed eyes. I hop up from the floor and pace back and forth, trying to hold them open.

I blink and see the river of blood pooling around the bodies of Kate and Killian. It’s in the room soaking my feet.

“Fuck you!” I yell at the ceiling.

This is why I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts. I stalk over to the bottles of liquor. The first one I pick up is empty, and I knock it to the floor. The next is empty, too, and I growl in frustration. I’ve been drinking too much. I’m so dazed that I can’t even remember buying alcohol in the first place. My fingers finally wrap around a neck that sloshes. I grab a glass with shaking hands and fill it to the brim, gulping it down.

I close my eyes savoring the burn, and I can almost feel the earth around me shaking, and the ground beneath me opening up. I pour myself more and more, sucking the drinks down like my life depends on it. It probably does.

I cough, and I can feel the heat from the fire that licked the fields. It eats everything up, consuming the bodies of Killian and Kate. Vivian’s words haunt me.

When the fire started, I knew it was you… I saw a monster.

I stand over the sink, washing out the glass. I’ve always been a fucking monster. All this time I’ve tried to make myself into one so I had an excuse. I let out another frustrated scream, and the glass pops in my hand. I grip it, letting the shards dig into my palm to ground me. Once I feel a semblance of reality, I toss the remaining pieces into the sink. I’ll clean it up later.

With gasping breaths, I drag myself to the bathroom. My hands are shaking so hard that I can hardly turn the handle to the sink. I let the water run over my palm. The gashes are deep, and they’ll need stitches. Maybe I can let myself bleed out, and I won’t have to deal with this shit anymore.

I look up into the mirror and catch sight of myself. It isn’t me, but it is. I see the monster that Vivian described. Two shiny onyx eyes stare back at me. Instead of my frustrated tears, there are streams of blood pouring down my face. A flash of anger overwhelms me, and I smash my fist into the mirror, shattering it. My consciousness descends into a pit and reality slithers away; the darkness consuming me. I’m trapped with the monster inside.

The sound of shouts cause my consciousness to bubble to the surface. When my eyes pop open, sounds pour in. Someone is pounding on the front door. Not the front door, but my bedroom door.

“Josie, are you in there?” Vivian’s voice calls out to me with worry. I yawn and try to garner control of the situation. What the fuck happened? My hand aches, and I look at the shredded bleeding flesh. Fuck. The door. My sister. My sister has to get her things. That’s why she’s here.

I jump up and yank it open, hiding my hand behind my back. Her fearful expression morphs into a moderately more relaxed one.

“How are you sleeping through all of this noise?” she says loudly. I glance down the hall trying to adjust. There are movers traipsing in and out of the condo banging into shit, not movers, but David, Hermes, and Minos.

My sister glances behind me, her eyes falling on an empty bottle of whiskey I guess I forgot about. The last few days have been a fog of memory. It’s easy to forget when you don’t want to remember. My balance is still a little shaky from my bender. The darkness seems to be placated for now, unresponsive. I give Vivian a sheepish smile.

“Are you okay?” Her question is full of worry. If I tell her the truth she might not move out. She would rearrange her plans just to keep an eye on me, and frankly I don’t want to be babysat.

I follow her out into the hallway. “Fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re welcome at my place anytime,” she informs me. I can hear the double meaning, but she won’t come out and say ‘Hey, about the other day. Are you okay?’ out loud. I’ve been avoiding her, but not for the reasons she thinks.

I’ve mostly been trying to ignore my responsibilities, my own mind, and a certain tall, dark handsome tattooed man. Now I’m out of excuses, and it’s just coming off sad and desperate that I was drunk alone. It definitely paints the picture that I’m losing my mind. I am, but no one needs to know that.

I should wince or something, but I just can’t find the capacity to care. There’s a strange feeling digging into my skin. I glance back over at the men carrying boxes.

“I’m aware. Why are Minos and Hermes here?” I grab the coffee pot and shove it under the faucet. I realize the sink is full of broken glass. Shit. I accidentally drank myself into forgetting to clean up my own rampage.

“David volunteered them,” she giggles, forgetting her worry from moments ago. “Can’t say I don’t hate supervising instead of carrying.”

“Darling,” Bella sits at the table covered in sweat. “Any chance you may want to help?”

“Yes, darling, any chance?” I mock Bella, hoping they don’t notice the glass or my hand, which is throbbing and definitely needs medical attention. I turn on the sink trying to nonchalantly run my burning, bleeding hand under the faucet. Splinters of glass poke out of my skin, jagged and angry, and the flesh is red and puffy.

“So don’t be mad at me,” she begins.

“About what?”

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