Page 86 of Molt

“I know.”

“Stop singing.”

“No.”

“August.”

“Dance.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re stepping on me.”

“You deserve it.”

She kisses me.

I kiss her back.

Sunrise spills through the curtains. For a moment, there’s no curse. No molt. No fear.

Just her.

Then another memory crashes into it.

Same room.

Two weeks later.

Broken furniture.

Blood–my blood.

Lenora screams at me. “Why did you lock me in here?”

“Because you were leaving.”

“You can’t keep me!”

“You always leave.”

“Because you always start treating me like a fucking prisoner!”

“Because every time you leave, you come back worse!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Stay.”

“I’m killing you!”

“I DON’T CARE.”

She slaps me.

I grab her.

She bites my lip hard enough to bleed.