Page 123 of Bitter Truths

With a long-suffering sigh, I mutter, “Of course it was.”

“Hm,” he hums before scrubbing his face. “I don’t know what to do, but I can’t let you do this. I can’t.”

“Too bad because it’s not up to you.”

With that, I march past him, stopping up short when he catches my arm, which is when I punch him in the eye and make a break for it.

He staggers back, and I run, slamming into my room and leaning against the door. This scene is too fucking reminiscent of the last time, and for a moment, I’m stuck in a time warp as he slams against the door.

“Hals! Please! I’m calling Mom!” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m not going to kill myself,” I say through the door.

“Then what?”

“I’m taking back my life, Max. Do you want me to make it? Because if you care about me at all, you’ll fucking leave,” I say harshly, leaning my forehead against the door.

“You mean it? You’re not going to hurt yourself?” he asks, and I nod even though he can’t see me.

“No.”

“Then open the door.”

“I can’t,” I whisper, stepping away and sitting on my bed.

I stare at the door for fifteen minutes before climbing out my window because I’m too paranoid about checking and seeing if he’s still there.

The walk to Dr. Marks’ home is brisk, and I don’t allow myself time to think because emotions kill you every fucking time. Nope. I’m sailing through this with nothing but numb acceptance. Hell, maybe we’ll go down together. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

I’m sure it would show up in the news as the psychotic girl who couldn’t see past her rage and took it out on her therapist—bullshit but whatever.

Would Griffin wonder? Care? I wish I could have told him it was a lie, but that would defeat the purpose. Let him move on. I’ll never be able to.

I’m stuck in the darkness, and it’s eating me alive, but for now, I embrace it because I need all the fucking dark I can get for this.

Dr. Marks lives in a cute little neighborhood near the campus filled with family homes and sedans parked in their respective driveways. When I walk up the stone path, I roll my eyes at the porch swing because even that fills me with rage.

This fucker is hiding out in plain sight, and nobody fucking knows. Standing before the door on trembling limbs, I take a deep breath for courage and knock, but the sound is so feeble, I have to do it again.

Glancing around warily, I finger the pill in my pants pocket before clenching my fists before me. I can’t fucking show my hand, but it’s hard not to when it’s practically burning a hole in my damn jeans.

Dr. Marks answers the door wearing casual jeans and a T-shirt, which weirds me out enough that I blink in confusion. I’m used to khakis and a button-down, and this is so informal I’m shocked. He shouldn’t be so . . . normal. Right?

“Halsey,” he says, looking me over with a sigh as I stand before him mutely.

Yep, I’ve been living in my own stink for two days. Asshole.

“This will not do. You’re to present yourself clean,” he says in a stern tone, but I just look at him.

My give-a-fuck left two days ago when I lost everything. He can go to hell.

“Let me make this clear,” he says, pulling me roughly inside. “I am your master, and I can crush you. You will do what I say. Do you understand?”

With an absent nod, I glance around. The inside of his home is no less mundane, all of which is at odds with this conversation.

Shit, even the pretty oriental rug is out of place. Who is this dick?

“Come, you’ll shower first,” he says, his nose crinkling.

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