ke. Cigarette smoke. The heavy, c

my heavy

minated only by the city lights bleedi

chair in the corner, a silh

his cigarette burned like a sing

been hom

he had been staying at the

my teeth as a sharp pain l

omed over the bed, radiating the chill of

ist like a manacle. His grip was bruising. He ha

n and bones

y strength was a fading mem

over the protruding bone of my wris

, his tone mocking. "Is that

acking sound. "Yes, Dante. That's it. I'm starving mys

way, he reached for the bedside lamp. He flipped the swit

he com

d against

bedside table, was a w

sat a strawberry cake. It was

ctually

n a dream. That phone ca

berries, and nausea rolle

solid food for days; I n

at him. He

smile like the girl I use

He actually thought a cake c

unsteadily to the trash can in the corner of the room and let

t perfect

ful bitch,"

ry strides and slammed me against the

but the threat hu

for that," he snarled,

sked f

d out, the lie tasting li

issed. "You wanted to

e wild with rage, but beneath th

ay his cake. He didn't care th

tic, Dante,"

against mine, the hard wall of his chest pinning me in

n on the sensitive skin there. It hurt. But the pain w

e medicine," he muttered against

ody, resting over the h

mmanded. He began to u

rove he owned me. He wanted to hate-f

't have the strength left

ool on the floor. His rough hands found the thin

pau

sharp, skeletal ri

looking down at my wasted

are y

sound sliced through the he

me, then down at his pocke

flashed bright

yes searching my face for s

rse with conflicted desire. "Beg me to

ack against the wa

rth it, Dante,

ds were

thing. That was wh

into stone. He a

a?" h

er end, tinny and pathetic. "Help me, Dant

't look aw

her, though his eyes we

t, the mindless chatter of her television—any distraction

eaving me shivering. He snatched up his jacket and cast

ay, Elena," h

e room. He walked o

he ghost of a strawberry cake and t