Page 36 of Cursed to Be Mine
Shamefultalk.
How can I hope for her to be the one marked? My own fucking daughter.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
I love her more than anything, but…
That doesn’t stop me from wishing in the darkest part of my soul – that place no one likes to admit they have, that it’s notmethe reaper is here for.
It’sher.
Please, God, save me.
I swap my Sig to my left hand. Reaching over to her, I grab my daughter’s hand and squeeze. She flips her palm up and grabs me back, her fingers tight on mine, desperate to hold on to a reality her brain can accept.
Mother is safety.
Am I?
Yes.
We drive for another minute or two before my heart rate starts to calm. The city isn’t far even though I took off in the wrong direction, just throwing the van into gear and driving whichever way it was pointing. Convincing myself that the werewolves and witches killed each other, I take another deep breath and release.
We’re okay.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my shaky voice belying my new calm.
She nods, then winces before raising her other arm to her head.
She touches it, and her fingers come away with blood.
My grip jerks on the wheel. My world stills even asit rushes past, harsh contradictions pulling me in conflicting directions.
My heart stops, yet beats rapidly.
My senses dull, yet flare to life.
The gun feels cold in my hand, yet hot enough to burn.
My brain scrambles to understand the significance, and yet, the knowledge of what I need to do is crystal clear as flashes of that wolf on top of her, his mouth around her entire skull slam into me.
Choking me.
Beating me.
Making me want to scream.
My daughter’s been bitten.
There is no cure.
Shewillturn.
Slamming on the brakes, I fall against the wheel, my chest pressing into my fingers as I wheeze. Her scream sounds so distant, a quiet beneath the ringing consuming me.
She’s.
Been.
