The night before the pro-integration rally, I couldn’t sleep. I was spending the night at the mansion, and I should have felt safe, wrapped up in Andrew’s arms. Instead, I kept twisting and turning until I finally couldn’t take the constriction anymore.
I wiggled out of his arms and headed for the en suite bathroom. Inside, I left the door open and immediately went for the sink. I ran some ice-cold water and threw it on my face, hoping that the cold sensation would shock the grim thoughts out of my head.
I stared at myself in the mirror, watching the droplets of water drip down my skin. Images of “DIE MUTT” etched into my car flashed through my mind. “Or else” echoed in my ears.
“Crystal, are you all right?” Andrew asked, breaking my trance.
