On the other hand, it’s weird that he’s even suggesting calling the pigs.
“You’d turn on a frat brother for me?” I ask, forcing some cheer into my voice.
I don’t want to play nice.
I don’t want to be cheerful.
I just want to destroy something.
The thing inside me starts cutting between my ribs, trying to ooze out of me.
I smile against the pain, against the pounding behind my eyes, and remember that wild Pandora is only fun if she’s also funny, that lashing out now won’t get me anywhere. Above all else, I can’t get expelled because somebody talked to me while I’m coming apart.
“I mean, we can’t have our frat brothers attacking hapless young women,” he says. “And Asch isn’t exactly the cream of the crop, if you get what I’m saying.”
My vision goes hazy, and I almost take the blade out, almost slice it across Declan’s smug face because how fucking dare he say that about Asch, there’s nothing wrong with Asch, Asch is perfect, he’s hot and he cut me up exactly like I wantedand I can see the fire behind his eyes, not ablazebut something else, a furnace, a stoked inferno?—
I swallow and let out a few gasping breaths. “Yeah. I’ll take your shower. You have one, right?”
Declan takes a step aside, but the way he’s holding himself is tense. “Sure, you can use it. I really can get someone for you. Maybe Zayden? He’d take care of any problems that came up.”
“It’s fine. I’ll shower and wash up.” I walk past him into his bedroom.
It’s smaller than Blaze’s, but it’s still nice. The wall is covered with posters of half-naked women, in poses that nobody would consider artistic unless their only frame of reference was porn.
Very classy. I guess I know who picked the decor downstairs.
I’d make a snarky comment, but I still don’t feel like I’m fitting in my skin.
I step past the desk and into the bathroom, and before Declan can say anything, I shut the door and lock it. It’s one of those locks you push in, which means he could easily unlock it with a simple pin on the other side.
“If you come in here, I’m going to murder you,” I tell him through the door.
Is that a joke?
I don’t think it is.
I’m never really joking, am I?
“I would never,” he protests, but he doesn’t sound very convincing. “I’ll find some clothes for you to change into. I’m sure we have something on hand that might fit you.”
I strip down in the small bathroom, dumping my clothes on top of the toilet seat. I set my boots right in front of the door, as if that would stop him from entering—but it might make him trip and fall and smash his head against hard porcelain.
I don’t bother to wait for the water to warm up before I step into the shower. The cold water blasts me, making my skin pebble up.Whatever warmth I felt from the fuck with Asch is gone now, draining away with the blood.
You’re supposed to wash blood with cold water anyway.
I pour Declan’s expensive soap onto my hand and start scrubbing. My nose recoils at the scent, which is something weirdly sweet and off-putting that doesn’t smell like Asch or Blaze or River.
Because it’s not their soap, Pandora. Of course it wouldn't smell like them.
I grip the soap bottle and in a fit of frustration, open up the cap and pour it all away.
It’s wrong, wrong, wrong.
I watch the soap foam up on the shower floor, then toss the empty bottle into the sink. I reach for the shampoo, and one whiff of it makes my ribs break in my chest and spear my insides.
I pour all of that away too, disgusted by it.
