Description

My heart cracks. My eyes flash. I’m so hurt so angry so horrified so

humiliated and burning with indignation so raw that it’s like a fire raging

within me, a wildfire of decimated hopes. I want to crush Warner’s spine in

my hand. I want him to know what it’s like to wound, to inflict such

unbearable agony on others. I want him to know my pain and Jenkins’ pain

and Fletcher’s pain and I want him to hurt. Because maybe Warner is right.

Maybe some people do deserve it.

“Take off your shirt.”

For all his posturing, Warner looks genuinely surprised, but he wastes no

time unbuttoning his jacket, slipping off his gloves, and peeling away the thin

cotton shirt clinging closest to his skin.