What the—
I touch my face, and my fingertips come away black.
The stain spreads like ink under my skin—alive, dark, and hungry, creeping up my cheeks and claiming territory that doesn't belong to it anymore. The sterile hospital room narrows into a buzzing white tunnel. My pulse hammers so hard I can hear it in my ears.
"Your eyes will settle," my father says.
He stands by the window with his back half-turned, staring at the wall instead of looking at me. His voice sounds rehearsed and flat, like he is reading from a script he hates. I know that tone too well. He is lying.
"They're not going to settle," I rasp. My throat feels raw, scraped from screaming; I don't remember.
The door clicks open.
Marcus walks in—Savannah's fiancé, the man who has always watched me like a fascinating s
