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21. Dread

The tension in the tiny room is horrifying. My mother stands against the doorframe, her arms crossed on her chest, her pale green eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror, while Thalia still has no idea what to say. Her mouth opens and closes all over again as she stares at me, at the mark on my neck, at my reflection then at me again as if she did not have the courage to spill it out.

It has been a damn horror show ever since I left that damned place. David- or whatever his name was - has been busting my phone up with calls and messages to the point where I had to block his number so I could catch a damn break. I’m not sure which one of us took this harder.

Me, because I spend the next day crying my eyes out, raging around and taking it on everyone around me, or him because he simply could not get the hang of me.

It did not make sense. It did not make sense how damn blind I was to all the signs he was one of us. It did not make sense why I was so drawn to him still, even if my ang
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