Chapter Eight
Ana
I slowly pushed myself up from the cold bathroom floor, using the edge of the sink for support. My legs felt like jelly, and my stomach still churned with a bitter aftertaste.
I turned to look at Desmond, who was still standing in the doorway with that look of confused concern on his face. It was the kind of look he used to give me when I was actually sick, back when he still treated me like a person he loved.
Now, it just felt insulting.
"How doesn't it look?" I asked him, my voice low and raspy. I didn't hide the disgust in my eyes. "You make me feel sick, Desmond. Every time I see you, every time you come near me, I get more sick. The very air you breathe feels like poison to me now."
I saw him flinch slightly as if my words were physical blows. He took a small s
