The waitress left us sitting in the back corner of the bar after Sera instructed her to keep the alcohol flowing until a credit card appeared on the table.
When Sera dropped her shawl from her shoulders, unwinding it from her arms, all shades of blue, green, yellow, and brown, some older than others, covered her skin. The bruises were worse than I'd ever seen. She saw me staring at them, but I didn't give a s**t. I could no longer pretend what she was experiencing was normal or that it didn't exist. It was far from f*****g normal, and the evidence of its existence was painfully obvious.
She slammed down two consecutive shots of tequila. "I'll get to it, Bastian. I just need something to numb the pain first."
I noticed her twisted fingers when she sat down the glass, but when I reache
