Page 49 of Requiem
“This isn’t him,” I whisper, even as my voice breaks apart. “This is what they made him do. This is what they turned him into.”
But the words feel absolutely useless right now, because the world doesn’t give a damn what we know. The world saw that video, and now, Alexei has done exactly what he wanted. He’s turned Jude into the villain.
Micah’s phone slips from my hand and hits the couch, the screen still glowing on the headline. And all I can think, as the room spins and tilts and refuses to steady, is that we didn’t just lose time.
We might have just lost him to the world, too.
Chapter fourteen
JUDE GRAVES
I think I need another pill. Whatever the hell Micah gave me earlier. It took the edge off, dulled the worst of it, but my skin still won’t chill the fuck out. It’s like something is crawling just beneath it, tangling through my veins and causing the worst goddamn itching. He said it would help with the heroin withdrawals. And it did.
Thank fuck.
I’ve been here for a few days now, andnothingfeels right. Not my body. Not my head. I spent so long wanting them—wantingher—while I was being torn apart piece by piece, over and over again. I held onto that. Onto Emma, Micah, Heather, anything that felt like light in the never-ending fucking darkness.
And now I’m here. And I feel…nothing.
Why don’t I feel anything?
I hate it. I hate that when I look at the woman I love, something inside me recoils, as if she’s a threat. Likeshe’sthe thing that’s going to hurt me when my brain and heart know better. But my body…
My body doesn’t listen to me anymore. Alexei held that thread connecting my mind and body between his fingers and severed it.
Adriana looks like shit, too. I’m honestly surprised Micah hasn’t put a bullet in her head. Maybe he’s waiting.
I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, and for once, the pain isn’t ripping me apart. No cold sweats soaking through the sheets, or nausea twisting my stomach into knots. Just this strange, fragile quiet. It should feel like relief, but it definitely doesn’t. Because now there’s nothing to distract me from what’s in my head. Alexei didn’t just hurt me or break me down. He rebuilt me into something else, carved out whatever was left of my soul, and replaced it with a monster that listens, reacts, andobeys.
And the most agonizing, terrifying part?
Itworked.
A slow breath leaves my lungs as I stare at the ceiling, my thoughts slipping, tangling. Without the drugs, everything feels sharper, even when it’s dull. I haven’t been sober in so long that I don’t even know what’s real anymore. Is this who I am now without it? Or is this what he left behind?
Living with feelings is like seeing the world in color. Most people wake up drowning in it without even realizing. Gold light through windows, laughter painting the room in shards of yellow, or hands reaching for you in the dark because they want you there. But my world has been ash for so long that I barely remember what color looked like. Nothing reaches me anymore. Everything just…passes through me.
I should hate it. I think part of me used to. Now I just feel...whatever about it, I suppose. Sometimes I wonder if something inside me stopped working years ago and nobody noticed except me. Like a clock with shattered gears still trying to tick. The thought makes me sad. Maybe one day I’ll find the rhythm again. Or maybe I’ll disappear into the earth exactly like this, carrying the same colorless weight that turned every good thing gray.
My gaze drifts, landing on the mask sitting on the dresser across the room. I can’t reach it, but it feels like it’s watching me anyway. The damn thing remembers everything I did while I was wearing it. My jaw tightens, and I turn my head away from it, forcing my eyes shut.
Breathe. Justbreathe.
I am not the mask. The mask is not me.
But it still feels like we are one in the same.
My thoughts are forced back when the door flies open. My eyes shoot toward it and land onher. The flinch hits before I can even fucking think about it. My muscles lock, my chest pulling tight as if I’ve just been punched in the ribs.
Fuck.
Ihatethat I did that. Because I know her. Iknowher. But my body reacts like it doesn’t.
“Jude,” she says, stepping inside, her voice careful.
Micah’s right behind her.
Something is wrong.My focus shifts to him immediately because it’s easier. Because he doesn’t make my head feel like it’s splitting open.
