Koen feels distant, which surprises me after our hug yesterday, on the porch. He’s not the type for mood swings— his mood tends to be consistently shitty. Am I missing something? “They all acknowledge the threat, and we’re all on the same page. Which is more than I can say about the first time this happened.” One last, oddly strident note, and he turns to face me directly. He leans forward, elbows on his spread thighs. His eyes bore, debone me, until I can’t help fidgeting.
“Is anything . . .” I run a hand through my hair. “Are you— ”
Why is my hair wet?
What is this T- shirt that I’m wearing?
And the claw marks on my forearms—
Last night’s events hit me like a sledgehammer. f**k.
Fuck.
I pull back the covers, intending to run for the bathroom mirror, but my quads are incapable of s
