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Chapter 13

 

“Are you finished?” Six asked as he reached across the coffee table.

I looked up at him as I took another sip of my wine. Glancing down at my plate, there was still half a chicken breast and some cheese and baguette, but I nodded anyway and turned toward the window just in time to see the Eiffel Tower start twinkling in the moonlight.

It was late, and I was hoping the wine, which Six ordered, would make it easier to fall asleep. Five days had passed, and I had become very blasé.

My spark was gone, or at least hiding. Depression was overpowering everything, and I had no will to do anything. Even sleep eluded me as my mind whirled about nothing. I stared up at the ceiling, blank, unresponsive in the night.

It wasn’t me. I wasn’t me.

Cracked and broken as I tried not to cry, thinking about everything that was wrong. Accepting that I was already dead inside. Being on my period didn’t help, nor the trip with him to a pharmacy, the hormonal shift making my depression worse.

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