"If you don't mind," I say, crisp and clear as my temper fires up, mouth moving before I can cram it shut. "I just needed a moment to get into character." The lie falls easily from my lips, gut taking over where my brain is failing me miserably. "I'm ready."
I'm not. But my frozen state is gone, the cracking of my shell shattered by my surge of anger. This is just a tiny stage. A no-name director. Just a person in front of me, not some monster or someone out to hurt me. Ian is dead, has been for a year now. He's not real. This is real.
As for Bianca... her smirking presence fades from Aleah's tense but hopeful face as I mentally give the b***h in my mind the finger.
The monologue I rehearsed comes easily as I reach for it, falls around me like a familiar dress, soft and luxurious. The c
