EMMALINE
I sit there on the cold floor of the bathroom for a long while, my forehead pressed against my arm, the taste of sickness still sharp in the back of my throat. My body won’t stop trembling, though the worst of it is over. I keep trying to tell myself it’s nothing, maybe just something I ate, maybe stress, maybe anything other than the thought clawing at the edges of my mind.
But the truth is, deep down, I already know.
Something is wrong.
And worse than that, it’s something I can’t talk about. Not to anyone. Especially not Alexander.
The idea of telling him sends a shiver racing through me. His eyes, the way they burn with that kind of desperate devotion, it’s too much. If he knew something was happening to me, something this serious, he would never let me breathe again. He’d
