A LITTLE UNWELL IN THE HEAD

RAIN

I am not good with death.

I am consumed with the dark obsession of thinking about it too much, craving just as much and toying with it, a little too much for a normal person.

They take Lexie away, strapped in a stretcher, barely alive.

She cut herself, seated in the bathtub. I knew we had a shared darkness—me and her. I just didn't think we were so much alike as choosing to go while in the bathtub.

But to be honest, bathtubs are comfortable.

When they take her and Liam follows them, I stall in the bathroom before rushing over the bowl and retching my guts out.

My hands are shaking, blood on them ... The cold feel of her freezing body still lingers.

I hurl until I have nothing more, before washing up on the sink. No matter how much I scrub or how much soap I use, the smell of blood doesn't leave.