Page 137 of Pretty Poisoned

"I'm so sorry," he says. "I love you so much, Teagan."

"What the fuck is this?"

Just like after the night we dug the grave, the sound of Declan's voice elicits a knee-jerk, fear-based reaction and has me clinging to Luca for protection.

He stands in the doorway, wearing a white v-neck shirt with black block lettering that says,'Everybody lies.'

And his jeans are covered in deep red-brown stains from the knees down to his ankles.

My blood.

He didn't wash them; he didn't even change them. He made me part of his aesthetic—part of the show.

"What do you mean, 'What the fuck is this?!'" River asks him. "You said to get her here; she's here."

"Well, get her up," Declan says. "The show is about to start."

"Shecannotget up, Declan, or she is going to end up in the hospital."

"Well, she's not going to the hospital," he tells her.

My heart sinks into my chest. It's bad enough lying here listening to him talk about me like I'm an object, completely unfazed by the state I'm in, aside from what an inconvenience it is for him.

'She can just die,'he says.

And to think I actually thought he cared about me—that I found comfort in his touch and his words. I trusted him. I read to him. I believed in him.

I feel like that stupid sixteen-year-old girl again, and everyone is laughing at me.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Luca asks.

Declan scoffs. "Nothing you haven't done to her."

"No, Declan. I never didthisto Teagan."

He scoffs. "Whatever."

"She is not just yours!" River snaps. "You can't keep doing this! This is supposed to be a family, andwelove her. You let her bleed for too long, and she's small and had been drinkingall morning—you're lucky I still had some of her blood because she has a rare blood type and can't accept other donors. Youhurther!"

"River…" Hazel cautions, squeezing River's arm. "Don't…"

"You really hurt her," River continues through tears. "I'm mad at you."

His eyes dart to mine for the first time since he entered the room, and I quickly look away.

"Fine. Leave her back here," Declan says casually. He takes a swig of whatever's in his flask and heads for the door. "The rest of you need to get out there."

"I'm sorry, baby," Luca says. "As soon as we're done, I'll take you back, okay? We'll get out of here, and he'll leave you alone. And when the tour is done, we'll go away for a while—just us."

"Where?" I ask.

"Wherever you want," he says. "Hawaii, Mexico. We could go to Paris or London. You pick."

"I don't have a passport."

"That doesn't matter," he says.

"What about Italy…or Greece?"

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