Page 49 of Graves

Do I even eat meat?

“I… changed my mind,” I choke out and hurry away.

I don’t know where I’m going, but the second I’m out of the butcher’s sight, I breathe in relief. Only then do I notice the weight of the basket and look down.

So many things I… need?

Really?

Why?

Are they even the right products? The right brands?

What if they’re not?

What if I’m wrong?

A cold shiver hits me and I freeze. I stop by the cereal aisle. Something doesn’t feel right, but I can’t figure out what it is.

Is it the shampoo?

Or maybe the soy sauce?

Holding my breath, I set the basket on the floor and step back like it contains a live bomb.

I know there isn’t one, but I hear ticking.

Without thinking, I spin on my heel and run out of the supermarket. I grab Pixie, who’s tied up by the entrance, and rush home.

My whole body is wired, like live wires run through my veins. Deep inside, an old reflex flickers—a familiar escape.

I force myself to breathe deeply, clench my fists and release them, over and over, until I get home. Luckily, I only live two blocks away.

No matter how hard I try to convince myself everything is fine and I’ve escaped Luke’s control, I’m trapped in the spiral. The world grows darker around me and I hear that arrogant, familiar laugh again. It terrifies me and follows me all the way home.

Can’t even manage a simple grocery run!

How pathetic are you?

Dusk has already settled. When I get home, I’m blinded by a camera flash. Two paparazzi are waiting by the entrance. I curse myself for not taking the courtyard route. But I’m so deep in my own thoughts that I don’t even fight them. I keep my head down, jog up the stairs, and disappear into the red-brick building.

You don’t even fight back? Of course not! You’re so helpless!

My pulse pounds in my head as I step into the apartment, close the door, and set Pixie down. She runs to the kitchen, hoping for dinner.

The lights are on, but Aran is nowhere to be seen—at least that calms me. I couldn’t have handled him seeing me like this.

With shaky hands, I snatch a Tupperware container from the freezer. I take out a portion of meat and leave it in Pixie's bowl by the sink to thaw.

You couldn’t even manage that. Would’ve been easy to take it out earlier.

To keep her from waiting too long, I grab a pack of dried turkey from the pantry. My hands are sweaty and I can’t get the zipper open.

You can’t do anything right. You’re useless. Let me do it. This is never going to work.

A gasp escapes me as I tug harder at the bag. Annoyed, I grab a knife, then put it down again.

You’ll just hurt yourself. You should learn to accept help.