Page 106 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

And me? I used Eli fucking Black to help make me feel something. I used his sharp jabs as a way to see if I could still feel pain. And his kisses evoked other emotions. He swept away the fog in my brain when I most needed him.

When I thought Mom might die.

But my mother... she was a trooper. She fought through the hard shit with a smile. Well, most of the time. She never gave up—that’s the important part.

I was raised by a strong woman.

Somewhere along the line, that strong woman disappeared. I wish like hell I knew where she went or how I could bring her back.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, clutching the phone tighter to my face.

“Honey?”

Her voice is raspy. It used to get like that when she went through treatment. I spent so much time in her hospital room, I got used to the way her voice changed from when she was on the edge of sleep to fully awake. Pain was the undercurrent of her words.

I didn’t realize until right this moment that the pain never left.

“Mom?”

She’s silent for a moment except for ragged breathing.

I sink to the floor, pressing my back on the lockers. “Talk to me.”

“I just don’t think I can do it anymore,” she whispers.

A weight crushes down on my chest. “Don’t say that.”

“Liz died,” she continues. “She was three years younger than me. Had been in remission for a year and a half—” Her voice cracks. “And now Noah…”

I cover my mouth with my hand.

“Noah’s okay, though. He’s coming home soon. Him and Dad.”

I can’t do this. I can’t comfort her about the woman who used to braid my hair while Mom played music, making us guess the artist or the title. They were roommates on the oncology wing, both fighting their cancer.

Liz became family.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she repeats. “I’ve fought and I’ve fought, and I’m just going to end up back there with tubes coming out of my body. What’s the point of any of this?”

I swallow. “You’re talking like... Your cancer is gone. You’ve been in remission for two years. You’re okay.”

Why is it hard to breathe?

This is different from the other phone calls I’ve gotten from her. Different, too, from the way she used to talk about death. Her and Liz made Death into a warrior that they would defeat. But now… not so much.

“I can’t keep fighting.”

Her voice is so low, I can barely hear her.

Alarm bells sound in my head. Screaming sirens.

“Where are you?” I demand. It’s her cell—I wouldn’t question if she had decided to go to Liz’s house, or the hospital.

Who knows?

“Home.”

What was once home is now an empty house. We’ve been ghosts circling each other for ages. Dad is never there. Noah’s been… weird. Working a lot, avoiding our parents. And now stabbed, in a hospital bed.