I don’t move away from Max.
I can’t.
My cheek stays pressed into his hand like it’s the only thing keeping me steady, but everything inside me feels like it’s slipping.
Too fast.
Too much.
I swallow.
“…I don’t like this,” I mumble truthfully.
Max’s thumb stills slightly against my cheek.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head, my brows pulling together.
“All of it,” I whisper.
I stare at him for a second—then past him—then nowhere at all.
“I thought… if I drank…” I let out a shaky breath, my voice uneven now, “It would just—stop.”
“Stop what?” Enzo asks gently.
I laugh.
“My head,” I say. “Everything in it.”
My throat tightens.
I blink, and my vision blurs.
I don’t even realize I’m crying at first.
Just that something warm slips down the side of my face.
“…I’m tired,” I whispe
