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She held back a sob, unsure whether to believe him or not. "So this is why Mia hates me?"
"Yup. She hates you because of him. That, and because you're royal and she's insecure around all royals, which is why she worked so hard to claw up the ranks and be their friend. I think it's a coincidence that she ended up with your ex-boyfriend, but now that you're back, that probably made it worse. Between stealing him and spreading those stories about her parents, you guys really picked the best ways to make her suffer. Nice work."
The smallest pang of guilt lurched inside of her. "I still think you're lying."
"I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a liar. That's your department. And Rose's."
"We don't - "
"Exaggerate stories about people's families? Say that you hate me? Pretend to be friends with people you think are stupid? Date a guy you don't like?"
"I like him."
"Like or like?"
"Oh, there's a difference?"
"Yes. Like is when you date a big, blond moron and laugh at his stupid jokes."
Then, out of nowhere, he leaned forward and kissed her. It was hot and fast and furious, an outpouring of the rage and passion and longing that Christian always kept locked inside of him. Lissa had never been kissed like that, and I felt her respond to it, respond to him - how he made her feel so much more alive than Aaron or anyone else could.
Christian pulled back from the kiss but still kept his face next to hers.
"That's what you do with someone you like."
Lissa's heart pounded with both anger and desire. "Well, I don't like or like you. And I think you and Mia are both lying about Andre. Aaron would never make up anything like that."
"That's because Aaron doesn't say anything that requires words of more than one syllable."
She pulled away. "Get out. Get away from me."
He looked around comically. "You can't throw me out. We both signed the lease."
"Get. Out!" she yelled. "I hate you!"
He bowed. "Anything you want, Your Highness." With a final dark look, he left the attic.
Lissa sank to her knees, letting out the tears she'd held back from him. I could barely make sense out of all the things hurting her. God only knew things upset me - like the Jesse incident - but they didn't attack me in the same way. They swirled within her, beating at her brain. The stories about Andre. Mia's hate. Christian's kiss. Healing me. This, I realized, was what real depression felt like. What madness felt like.
Overcome, drowning in her own pain, Lissa made the only decision she could. The only thing she could do to channel all of these emotions. She opened up her purse and found the tiny razor blade she always carried...
Sickened, yet unable to break away, I felt as she cut her left arm, making perfectly even marks, watching as the blood flowed across her white skin. As always, she avoided veins, but her cuts were deeper this time. The cutting stung horribly, yet in doing it, she was able to focus on the physical pain, distract herself from the mental anguish so that she could feel like she was in control.
Drops of blood splattered onto the dusty floor, and her world began spinning. Seeing her own blood intrigued her. She had taken blood from others her entire life. Me. The feeders. Now, here it was, leaking out. With a nervous giggle, she decided it was funny. Maybe by letting it out, she was giving it back to those she'd stolen it from. Or maybe she was wasting it, wasting the sacred Dragomir blood that everyone obsessed over.
I'd forced my way into her head, and now I couldn't get out. Her emotions had ensnared me now - they were too strong and too powerful. But I had to escape - I knew it with every ounce of my being. I had to stop her. She was too weak from the healing to lose this much blood. It was time to tell someone.
Breaking out at last, I found myself back in the clinic. Dimitri's hands were on me, gently shaking me as he said my name over and over in an effort to get my attention. Dr. Olendzki stood beside him, face dark and concerned.
I stared at Dimitri, truly seeing how much he worried and cared about me. Christian had told me to get help, to go to someone I trusted about Lissa. I'd ignored the advice because I didn't trust anyone except her. But looking at Dimitri now, feeling that sense of understanding we shared, I knew that I did trust someone else.
I felt my voice crack as I spoke. "I know where she is. Lissa. We have to help her."
NINETEEN
IT'S HARD TO SAY WHAT finally made me do it. I'd held on to so many secrets for so long, doing what I believed best protected Lissa. But hiding her cutting did nothing to protect her. I hadn't been able to make her stop - and really, I now wondered if it was my fault she'd ever started. None of this had happened until she healed me in the accident. What if she'd left me injured? Maybe I would have recovered. Maybe she would be all right today.
I stayed in the clinic while Dimitri went to get Alberta. He hadn't hesitated for a second when I told him where she was. I'd said she was in danger, and he'd left immediately.
Everything after that moved like some sort of slow-motion nightmare. The minutes dragged on while I waited. When he finally returned with an unconscious Lissa, a flurry arose at the clinic, one everyone wanted me kept out of. She had lost a lot of blood, and while they had a feeder on hand right away, rousing her to enough consciousness to drink proved difficult. It wasn't until the middle of the Academy's night that someone decided she was stable enough for me to visit.
"Is it true?" she asked when I walked into the room. She lay on the bed, wrists heavily bandaged. I knew they'd put a lot of blood back into her, but she still looked pale to me. "They said it was you. You told them."
"I had to," I said, afraid to get too close. "Liss...you cut yourself worse than you ever have. And after healing me...and then everything with Christian...you couldn't handle it. You needed help."
She closed her eyes. "Christian. You know about that. Of course you do. You know about everything."
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."
"What happened to what Ms. Karp said? About keeping it all secret?"
"She was talking about the other stuff. I don't think she'd want you to keep cutting yourself."
"Did you tell them about the 'other stuff'?"
I shook my head. "Not yet."
She turned toward me, eyes cold. " 'Yet.' But you're going to."
"I have to. You can heal other people...but it's killing you."
"I healed you."
"I would have been okay eventually. The ankle would have healed. It's not worth what it does to you. And I think I know how it started...when you first healed me..."
