Ness
Lagos' gaze returns to my arm, where a trickle of blood seeps from the wound, running down the inside until it reaches the bend of my elbow. Before I can register his next move, I see him step closer. He grabs the towel from the sink and holds me firmly to press it against my arm.
"No." I try to pull away, shaking my head. I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He shouldn’t see me like this. I’ve managed to hide what I do, even from my brother and Milena. Why did he have to barge into the bathroom without knocking? Why didn’t I lock the door?
"Get out of here." My voice is so broken that I barely recognize it.
Despite my protest, Lagos keeps pressing the soft fabric against my skin and doesn’t let me move.
