I’m hot, burning hot.
I need a release, but I don’t know how to get one without a man.
Jesus, I’m fucked up.
If I could just cry, feel something, maybe I wouldn’t feel this way. I don’t know how to cry anymore.
And I don’t know how to come alone.
I need help.
I storm to the door and grab the handle, knowing it’s time I talked to Langston. I won’t survive the year like this. If Langston wants a chance to get answers, then he needs to help me live long enough to be able to tell him the truth.
I rattle the doorknob, but it doesn’t open.
“Fuck!”
I slam my hand on the door, pounding on it.
“Langston!”
Knock.
&
nbsp; Knock.
Knock.
“Open the door! We need to talk!”
I press my ear up against the door, but I don’t hear anything. If Langston is in his bed, he would have heard me. He’s either ignoring me or not here.
He’s never here for me when I need him.
My nails dig into the back of the door and then scrape down. I hope I’m destroying the perfect finish on this pretty door, but I doubt I am.
I collapse to my knees as I cry out, begging my body to surrender, to give in.
Cry, dammit.
Shed one fucking tear.
Make this easier.
I feel under my eyes, but all I sense is the sticky sweat clinging to my cheeks.
I’m broken.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I need Langston.
“Liesel?”
Langston’s voice.
I exhale sharply.
“Yes,” I croak back.