God, I wish I could stop enjoying the thought of death.“Mac,” I whisper, our foreheads still together.
I try and lift my arms to push him away, but can’t. Like dead weight, they stay motionless at my sides. I shake my head against his. This is wrong.
This is wrong.“Ahnia, I know we can’t do this. I just . . . I . . .”
Mac slaps an open palm against the wall. It’s an angry, powerful blow a mere foot from my face. I jump, feeling the vibration of it against my entire body.
“f**k!” He shouts and pulls himself away.
He runs a fist through his hair and storms off. After helping himself to another beer from my fridge, he disappears back into the living room, leaving me behind to gather myself. I take a couple of deep breaths and run my shaking hands down the front of my shirt a few times.
