There’s a crack in the plaster beside the bed, a gold-edged vein at eye level. I curl inward, knees up, head bent, hair a veil across my burning face.
His voice craves an answer, but I stare at the crack and refuse to breathe. He moves upwind of me, the open window fanning his scent across my skin. A moment, two, and then the floor creaks as he leaves me alone.
I crack like the plaster, tears dripping off my cheek, my nose. We’re broken, and he doesn’t even know it. I curl tighter and let my glamour fall.