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A black hole swirls in my chest, eating up anything good left inside of me. I glare at the duo, the fire in my eyes fiercer and brighter than the one before me.

I can’t decide which I’m more eager to kill. Him, or his sister.

A collective silence ensues, the energy thick and heavy. Not even a cricket chirps, as if the wildlife can feel the tension, too.

Sydney breaks first, cocking her arm and hitting Phoebe with the rock on her shoulder, directly over one of her wounds, a savage cackle echoing in the air.

I wince, my horror growing as she swings mindlessly. Phoebe’s cries reach my ears mere seconds later, and finally, I react on instinct. I push Sydney to the side, ignoring her outraged wail when she lands awkwardly on her hand holding the rock.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jillian and Gloria kneel, raising their hands and bringing the rock down on Bethany’s head—attempting to give her a quick death.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and my heart races. I quickly roll Phoebe to her side, blurring out her extensive injuries.

Sydney clambers to her knees, rushing toward the both of us with murder in her eyes. Growling, I whip my rock directly at her head, ignoring Francesca’s sharp gasp as the rock strikes true, knocking the crazy bitch out cold.

Turning my attention back to Phoebe, I carefully gather her in my arms, cradling her head in the juncture of my shoulder and curling myself over her.

“I will not let you suffer,” I whisper in her ear, desperately and rushed. A hot tear breaks free, burning a path down my cheek. “You saved me, Phoebe. You were so fucking strong and brave, and you will always be my hero. Do you hear me?”

“I… I h-hear you,” she chokes, sobs racking her chest. Inhaling deeply, I lunge for a branch in the pit, barely feeling the flames licking at my flesh.

Rocco rushes towards me, but it’s too late. I’m jabbing the sharp tip of the branch deep into her jugular. Phoebe convulses beneath me, blood pouring from her neck in rivulets. I hold on to her tightly, but I cannot say the same for my shattering soul.

A sob bursts from my throat, and I press my forehead against hers, hardly feeling the blood soaking my skin.

Tears of sorrow and rage track down my cheeks, and all I can do is just squeeze her harder, rocking us back and forth as she dies in my arms.

“Sleep, Phoebe,” I whisper against her, my voice cracking. “Go to sleep now.”

Nearly as quickly as it began, she stills. But I can’t let her go. I weep into her lifeless body, battling with relief that she’s no longer suffering, and despair that she had to die at all.

Someone’s daughter died today.

And all I can hope is that whoever loved her, will forgive me for being the one to take her from them.

Two Months Later

I twirl the tube of red lipstick until it’s completely exposed. Carefully, I apply it to the bow of my top lip, taking great care to stay within the lines.

Then, I move to my bottom lip before rubbing them together and popping them.

I stare at my reflection, hardly recognizing the person staring back at me. Black circles rim the underside of my eyes, and I remind myself to put extra concealer there before I meet with Xavier tonight. He only likes to see how exhausted I am after he fucks me.

I haven’t been placed up for auction yet. Francesca says I’m almost ready and that when the time comes, Xavier will ensure he is the highest bidder.

It’s unofficially official that he will be my master. Because of this, Francesca has allowed him to visit me once a week for the past month.

Tonight will be the fourth night that we spend together. Afterwards, I’ll curl up into a ball while Rio cleans me up. Xavier gets off on drawing blood, and now that I’m essentially spoken for, he’s allowed to mark me. Within reason, Francesca says, but honestly—what’s reasonable about any of this?

I hold the lipstick up and wonder if it’s the color of my blood that excites Xavier or the feel of his knife breaking past that weak barrier of skin.

I drop my hand and meet my caramel eyes in the mirror.

When’s the last time I genuinely smiled? The last night I was with Zade, I think. How long ago was that? I believe it's January now, and the last time I saw him was not too long after Satan’s Affair. I’ve missed my first holidays with him. Thanksgiving and Christmas, and maybe his birthday, although I don’t even know when that is. My New Year’s kiss was Xavier’s dick down my throat, and if I didn’t have a desire to kill myself before, I did then.

What had Zade said to make me grin? He had said something ridiculous, but I can’t recall what it was anymore. I do remember him laughing when I struggled for a response. And I remember my traitorous lips tipping up, as much as I tried not to.

I wish I never suppressed my smiles with him. Because now I don’t know if I’m capable of one anymore.