Clarissa's POV
Saint rushed out of the room, but I didn't bother to question it. Instead, I followed his instructions, doing exactly as he asked. With each button my fingers pressed, a part of me grew tired. Not tired as in wanting to sleep, but tired as in being done with Saint.
I didn't care anymore.
He could threaten me all he wanted, he could throw my mother in my face, but I was simply tired.
Everytime I think back to the way Saint used to treat me, preying on my fears, using my mother as bait, tearing me down when I only agreed to help him... I almost always felt the need to scream. Then, he would demand me to do whatever he wanted as if the other part of our deal never existed. I was giving him results, but he wasn't. reciprocating anything back.
I could leave. I could walk r
