Taylor
As soon as Tatum closed his bedroom door, I crumbled. I hadn’t even opened the letters Pollux had given me yet, but the thought of her writing to him—of her keeping secrets from me—it killed me. I didn’t want to remember her for such things. I wanted to remember her for the woman I knew, not the woman she may have really been.
“Get a hold of yourself,” I groaned.
I had kept myself together for years, and here I was an emotional mess like a fucking teenager who didn’t know how to deal with life. It was pathetic, and I felt pathetic. A fucking succubus who was over emotional. What an ironic concept to think about.
I didn’t want the memories I cherished with her to be tainted by the possible lies that she kept. Confliction weighed heavily on me, and I knew I was going to have to face the possibilities of what the letters did hold.
A truth that could set me free from a life of confusion.
Or maybe there were just things Pollux constructed to get me to trust him.
