Lily gazed at the ceiling as Ethan's bedroom was dotted with shifting patterns from the city's dull glow. She hadn't intended to get here or want his assistance in chasing away the debilitating weight of her thoughts, but she hadn't objected when he had told her to stay.
She was too tired to continue fighting.
She kept thinking about the night's events in a vicious, never-ending cycle. Carlisle was out.
She was unable to stop the voice that was whispering the truth, no matter how much Ethan soothed her or how many times she tried to convince herself that they would ultimately prevail.
Carlisle was never far away.
Pressing her fingers against her temples, she rolled onto her side. The last several months had been a never-ending cycle of running, loss, and terror. She was being consumed, suffocated, and being torn apart by it.
Before she broke totally, how much more could she take?
