Page 22 of Cursed Heirs

But it had been two hours and I hadn’t written a single word.

There was no impetus.

There was no fucking point.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Nothing did.

And I didn’t want it to, because I knew what needed to be done.

With me like this, made into this, I was a danger to everyone around me.

To everyone whom I loved.

I couldn’t live with that.

And I certainly couldn’t accept it.

It didn’t matter.

I was tired anyway. So fucking tired.

I’d had a hard enough time becoming a hybrid without being this now.

My hope to keep moving forward had been my spark of magic I’d still had available to me, the connection I’d still felt to it and that life. But now it was all just a memory.

I couldn’t exist in this way.

The fire was calling me, its draw stronger than ever. So when the opportunity came to step into it, I would take it.

I was confined to this spare room in the Rose mansion at the moment. Abigail had sealed the windows to prevent sunlight from filtering in too. My dad had warned her about thedepressionI’d slipped into after I’d been turned.

Depressiondidn’t exactly cover it. But I didn’t want him to see more than that anyway. I’d be under twenty-four-seven watch if he knew the truth. Then I wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done.

Thatwas my hope now—ending this pain at last.

A light rap sounded at the door, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Who is it?” I called out from the bed.

“Alena. Are you up for a visitor?”

“Of course,” I called back. “One second.”

I quickly flipped my journal to some pages with actual words filling the lines, so she thought I was actually getting into it and doing something productive. Then I called out, “Go ahead.”

In the next second, she was teleporting through the ward and into the bedroom.

“Hey,” she said, brightly.

She looked me over studiously and I managed to fix a believable smile to my face in response, and not show how nervous I was that she’d see something off with me—where my head was really at—and report it so I wasn’t able to see my plan through.

She took in the fact that I was showered and dressed too in a pair of jeans and a white tee.

While I was looking like my usual self, she was a far cry from that, wearing a pair of black sweatpants with a matching hoodie that was zipped all the way up. She wasn’t exhibiting her usual free and creative way of dress.

Because of me.

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