My chest trembled.
“You were my brother!” I sobbed. “My only brother—God, Vincent, I loved you. I waited for you. Every fucking night at Grandfather’s house.”
I sobbed
“I used to count the stars and pretend one of them was you coming back for me.” My voice cracked, shriveling into something smaller. “But you hurt me.”
I dragged in a breath that burned on the way down.
“You fucking hurt me.”
Then louder—sharper—splintered with rage:
“You are no longer my brother. From this moment on, stay the hell away from me!”
My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the knife. But I didn’t.
I clenched it tighter.
My chest caved. My mind split. And the pain—God, the pain wouldn’t leave.
So I turned it on myself.
I plunged the blade into my thigh. A scream tore through my throat.
But the pain—it helped. It made everything else quieter.
I didn’t stop.
Another stab. This time, my side.
Blood soaked through the cotton of my dress, hot and fast. My vision blurred.
But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop.
“I HATE YOU!” I howled, stabbing again. My hands were slick, the knife slipping, but I caught it, gripped it harder, drove it into my leg.
“I HATE YOU! I HATE ME! I HATE THIS FUCKING WORLD! I HATE THIS BODY!”
The room was smeared with red. My blood. My shame. My fury.
I could barely see myself anymore.
Then—the door burst open.
I didn’t look.
I kept stabbing.
“I hate you!” I screamed as blood coated my palms, my arms, the floor. “I’m not a woman anymore! I’m just meat! A sick joke of a girl! Why didn’t the cancer kill me when it had the chance?!”
A hand grabbed me from behind, strong and urgent, dragging me away from the knife. I screamed, thrashed, tried to claw my way back toward it.
“Stop! STOP—please, Charlotte—”
It was Cassian’s voice. Desperate and frantic.
But I thrashed like a wild animal, sobbing, screaming, clawing.