The second day, I went through his Instagram, developing unhealthy habits.
The third day, I sent him a text.
Did you take one of my mangas when you came into my room?
It was an excuse, and yes, he did take one from my boys’ love collection, and I was too embarrassed to ask for it back in the beginning.
Embarrassment was the last thing I could think of the last couple of days, though, which is why I sent that text.
Jeremy ignored me.
And I refuse to put a name on the feeling that flooded my system afterward.
Turns out, he was actually done with me, and now, I should get over it and move on.
I tuck a drunk Ava into bed after listening to her mumble everything and nothing, and once I’m sure she’s asleep, I leave and close her door. Then I cover Glyn with a blanket since she’s fallen asleep in the living room sofa. I go to check on Annika, but I recall that she’s spending the night at her brother’s mansion.
The dull ache from earlier comes back at the mere thought of him, but I ignore it and slip into my room.
I don’t want to sleep. The thought of black invisible hands, a heavy weight on my chest, and gruesome nightmares has made me terrified of closing my eyes.
Instead, I opt to study.
After fifteen minutes, I’m zoning out. This occurrence has been so frequent that it’s starting to worry me.
Lately, sleep paralysis and zoning out have become the bane of my existence. They’ve always been there, but I could cope, pretend they weren’t affecting my life.
Not anymore.
The other day, Ava said she was worried about me. Glyn, too. But I managed to wave them off.
I gently tap my cheeks and focus back on my book.
My phone vibrates on the table and I snatch it, my heart thundering back to life.
God, why am I like this?
Why do I have to have this reaction every time anyone texts me?
The name that shows on the screen isn’t the one I was waiting for, though. My shoulders hunch as I open the message.
Landon:Don’t you love it when it burns? Thanks for your services, Cecy.
My fingers shake as I open the video attached to the text. The scene of a burning mansion materializes in front of me.
Not just any mansion. The Heathens’.
The video was taken from an opposite angle, zoomed in to show students and firefighters running and trying to put the fire under control.
My phone falls to the table and I jump, grab it back, and call Landon. He picks up after two rings.
“Isn’t it exquisite?” His voice is eternally calm, a bit sadistic, and lacks a sliver of emotion.
“What have you done?” I whisper in a quivering voice.
“Me? I didn’t do anything aside from maybe selling inside intel about the Heathens’ compound to the Serpents and suggesting they start fireworks. Didn’t think they’d listen, but they’re vicious creatures, and their type love surprise attacks. If they eat each other, guess who comes out on top?”
I sway, both at the information he’s given me and at his apathetic manner of speech. I clutch the edge of the table for balance, sounding a lot calmer than I feel. “When you asked me to get information about the Heathens’ mansion layout, you said it was a negotiating chip and a defensive barrier in case they attacked you first. I didn’t want you, Bran, Remi, Creigh, or Eli hurt, which is why I agreed to the plan. You didn’t say anything about selling that intel to the Serpents.”