Starkeeper of the Fractured Crown

“I found that stray portal. It was waiting for him as if it knew he didn’t belong here.” I kissed his head again. “Be kind, be brave in the face of fear, and help when you can, always. It’s really important. Fear doesn’t have to make you weak, it can make yousostrong, right?”

Mark yawned as he nodded. “I know, I know, sheesh.”

I chuckled. “I love you, little fox, sleep well.”

“I love you too. Are you gonna be gone when I wake up?”

I didn’t want to be. Part of me never wanted to go back to that cottage again. “Yeah,” I whispered, crawling out of bed to tuck him in. “But I promise that I won’t be gone forever.”

“Okay.”

I stayed until his heavy eyelids fell shut before I finally left his room, my shoulders falling, the weight of the day settling around me.

Mom hadn’t meant it. I had made a stupid mistake. It wasn’t her fault. I should have fought harder to get home sooner. I should have kicked the High King in the dick or something. I shouldn’t have let him do that to me.

I padded silently to my room, closed the door behind me, and sank down to the floor where my blankets were.I leaned back against the wall, sitting there for a long time, staring at nothing, my thoughts pressing up against the walls I had built up between the girl Mark knew, and who I really was.

My throat closed as the entire day came rushing back. The dead people scattered across the town square, the man’s eyes, Trick Michael. My head fell to my bandaged hands and the quiet sobs shook through me.

I was so tired.

Just unbelievably, overwhelmingly tired.

And I needed everything to just…stop.

When I was empty of everything, every emotion, every thought, every feeling, I took off my jacket, wadded it up, and shoved it under the few other clothes I used as my pillow. I reached under the very edge of my bottom blanket and pulled out a small, sharpened knife.

It was a special knife. The knife that helped me release some of that pressure in my mind. In my body. The body that had betrayed me today.

I held out my left arm, taking in the lines I had put there over the years. Punishments, cravings to feel something, and some for deeper reasons even I couldn’t understand.

I would have to go back to my stomach soon, but for now, my arm would do.

I stared, unblinking, as I pressed the blade into my skin until blood welled up around it.

One.

Two.

Three lines.

Another for reacting the way I had today.

A fifth because part of me liked this.

And a sixth to punish me for liking what Trick Michael had done to me.

I watched the blood drip down to my blanket as I slid the knife back under it. I’d have to clean it later.

I scooted down into my blankets, letting the pain erase whatever was left in my head. The last man to see me naked had vomited when I had taken off my shirt.

Vomited.

That should have pushed me to stop, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

This was my addiction.

At the very word, those green eyes slid into my head, my hand drifting up to the collar I now wore around my neck.