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It feels like a pipe dream, though. One that’s farfetched and completely unattainable for me. Half crawling, half knee walking, I finally force myself to stand to pull my pajamas on from the closet. It feels as if the very air is pushing down on me, and it’s difficult to breathe, let alone walk.

“Brush your teeth,” I mumble to remind myself, stumbling back into the bathroom to do that.

I find my phone where I dropped it on the carpet, and clamber into bed after I’ve done everything that I need to. Glancing at the white paper bag beside me, I begin an internet search to see what I can expect if I take it.

Fifteen minutes later, I lower my phone to my lap as I shake my head in disappointment. According to my searches, the morning-after pill will fuck me up. While everything is hypothetical until I take it, the idea of worsening my dizziness, fatigue, migraines, and nausea isn’t appealing.

I also looked up what the morning after pill does to a normal person’s body, and it essentially gives you really awful cramps and bleeding. Knowing my issues with my periods, my body would see this as an assault to my system.

“Let’s put a pin in that for now,” I whisper.

This is probably incredibly stupid, but the odds are slim that I’m pregnant. I’m going to have to take the risk, solely because pregnancy is less scary to me than my body waging war against me.

This is what chronic illness does. I hate that I can’t be “normal” and just suck it up, but this is my life. A series of careful checks and balances that Alastair just seriously fucked with.

Blowing out a breath, I put the paper bag in the nightstand, plug my phone in, and turn out the light. I toss and turn all night, unable to sleep as I imagine torturing the Devils with my stun gun for the bullshit they keep putting me through.

Finally, I fall into a deep sleep around three in the morning, but even that’s riddled with new nightmares.

Thanks for the trauma, guys.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

DRAVEN

Noor is quieter than normal as I stalk her through the halls on Monday. She is in her head, barely responds when she’s pushed into the wall by Kelsie and her bitches, and hides for lunch with Rachelle.

“Do you think we broke her?” I ask Alastair as I glare at the office hiding Noor.

“Only way to know is to force her to talk to us,” he grunts. “Plan to skip class next period. Ciaran, can you loop the camera across from Mrs. Denton’s office?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll make sure to mark the three of us as excused from classes.”

Everything is logged into the same network, which allows Ciaran to access the entire grid. Even if it wasn’t, he’d be able to figure it out.

“How are we even more obsessed with her than before?” I grumble.

“I want to hear her talk to me, even if it’s just to curse me out,” Alastair mutters. “Is it kidnapping if we don’t leave campus?”

Snorting, I nod.

“I’m not a lawyer, but I have a feeling it is,” I murmur, checking the time.

The door to the office opens, and the three of us back into a janitor’s closet to hide as Mrs. Denton walks out backward talking. Her office is away from the main hallways of the school, so we’re completely alone.

“Noor, this is getting worse by the day. They’re punk assholes that are going to find themselves in jail or dead,” she complains.

“I think we’re famous in the Denton household,” I mutter under my breath.

“I told her to keep her mouth shut,” Ciaran growls.

“Shh,” Alastair retorts. “She’ll find us.”

The door is barely open, allowing a sliver of a view but great intel.

“What do you suggest I do?” Noor asks. “I’ve avoided everyone all day, but I’m really fucking angry, Rachelle. My mood swings are scary, and I don’t know what to do about it. I want to break shit.”