Page 95 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

Colt might kill him. He has a knife, after all, and Liam would be blindly following him. I can’t lose him. Not now.

“It’s okay,” Liam says gently, prying my hands loose. “I’m coming back for you.”

“I’m sorry, Skylar,” RJ babbles over the siren. “I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Theo snarls. “You okay, Buckley?”

No. I can’t even focus on myself. I have tunnel vision, only able to see exactly what my attention lands on. There are things I can do to regain control of my body, but they elude me. I bring my hands up to cover my ears, but the rope bites my skin. A whimper slips past my teeth.

Black spots flicker around my vision, and then the darkness wins.

It wins, and I lose.

I always lose.

26

Sky

I’m fourteen years old, wandering through the woods. Exploring, but… cautiously. I told Dr. Penn just last week that the forest behind my house calls to me and frightens me at the same time. How can something so beautiful be so terrifying?

I love the way the light filters down and the old leaves barely have any crunch. Everything is bright and new for spring, but there’s still old things, too. The leaves and a few piles of snow. The air is crisp.

Mom never would’ve let me come out here, so I snuck out. She’s sleeping, I think.

I’ll be in trouble when I get back, but I have an excuse: Dr. Penn said I should lean into those feelings and see where they lead—as long as I’m safe.

Am I safe?

I stop on the edge of a small clearing. There’s a piece of bright-yellow tape caught under a rock near my foot, and it flutters wildly. I kneel next to it and pull it loose. There are thick black letters printed on it, DO NOT.

Stuffing it in my pocket, I continue into the clearing.

There are questions Dr. Penn would ask: How do you feel? Why are you here?

I feel… compressed.

A weight on my chest, pushing down my shoulders, squeezing my head.

It’s why I’m out here: because I might explode otherwise.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

I glance back at Liam. He’s a year older, fifteen, which supposedly makes him braver than me. He ventures closer and takes the tape from my pocket.

His face pales. “Where did you get this?”

I shrug. “Found it.”

“We should go back.”

I twitch. “Dr. Penn said it was okay.”

“Dr. Penn isn’t the one who’ll beat my ass for letting you come—”

“Letting me, huh?” I glare at him. He’s been my shadow for the past year, and I can’t figure out why. Everyone tiptoes around me. Around it. The big trauma I can’t remember.

The whole month of November is a giant black hole. Part of October, too, actually.