[ZEKE]
I don’t know what leads me here, to this door. To the gnawing urge to get her alone.
It isn’t reason. It isn’t even desire—at least not the kind I can weaponize. It’s an itch under my skin, a fever I can’t f*****g scratch. A compulsion, I guess, that makes my legs move before I’ve decided where I’m going. I’m at the door before I realize it.
I don’t knock. I never knock. I don’t need to. But for a split second, my hand hovers anyway. Stupid. Weak. What the f**k am I doing?
Have I lost my mind?
That night with Naomi—my mind wasn’t mine. I’d thought about it, thought about her, thought about something else entirely when I shouldn’t have. Like some stranger had taken over, like I wasn’t the one pulling the strings anymore.
I look down at my hands now. I can still see the blood. H
