HAZEL’S P.O.V.
“I really don’t want to watch any of this.” Erin sniffled. Her eyes were red and puffy. She sat beside me at the dining table, with her legs pulled up as she hugged her knees.
I popped a slice of strawberry into my mouth. “Then don’t.”
Erin cried for the entirety of the walk back to the Airbnb. I was still upset, but in retrospect, I could at least understand why she reacted the way she did, to an extent.
I’d threatened to “end her” before we crept out of the security office at Monarch. I had since apologized, and I assured her I wouldn’t actually harm her.
When we arrived back home, the first thing I did was slice up some fruit—I’d earned a little treat. Erin refused food. She sat down at the table empty-handed, her shoulders slumped.
I clicked through different vi
