Rathers hobbled about his room. Back and forth, back and forth. He growled and tore at his hair. He caught sight of himself in the vanity mirror, saw the blood smeared along his face and his wide eyes.
I told you, I told you, I told you, the beast was chanting.
I told you, I told you, I told youYou can’t trust her. She’s not like us. She’s not your friend. She’s not—
You can’t trust her. She’s not like us. She’s not your friend. She’s not—His hip ached from where her bullet had grazed him. He could pull apart the tear in his pants and see the cut and scorched skin beneath. Blood soaked his clothes and the flesh looked tattered, but he would not die.
She shot me. She f*****g shot me.
She shot me. She f*****g shot me.He pulled a lamp off its side table and hurled it across the room. It
