Chương 8: 008

2001 Whatever god I pissed off… I'm sorry. Sticky sweat, dirt, and bile clung to me like a second skin, the stench sharp enough to churn my already roiling stomach. The cot scraped raw against every inch of exposed flesh, its thin fabric rough as sandpaper. Old cuts burned. New ones screamed. Every breath pulled pain through me like barbed wire. None of that compared to the heat simmering beneath my skin, or the long, angry gashes striping my back. Mr.

Bugle's belt buckle had torn deep, the wounds already swollen and infected. I hadn't had antiseptic. Hadn't been allowed any. Blood–some dry, some still wet–soaked into the single blanket he'd tossed me. White fabric bloomed red, spreading slowly, hypnotically. My focus drifted, slipping in ways I knew were dangerous, even as I couldn't stop it. Actually, second thought. Whoever it is that decided my life had to be shit can fuck off. You don't deserve an apology.

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me, broken immediately by a wet cough that sent fresh agony tearing through my ribs. Fire raced through my veins until the world smeared and doubled, salty tears turning the basement into a dark, shapeless blur. Fuck everything, just let me die already. I was tired. So fucking tired. First Mom. Then dozens of rejections. Then this. If my life was just going to be an endless chain of suffering, I'd rather it end early. Anything had to be better than clawing forward like this.

Oi, what the fuck are you thinking, kid?! Karma's voice cut through the haze, faint but sharp with alarm. My thoughts slid over one another, slippery and indistinct. Her voice came again, louder this time, panic cracking through it like a whip. Shit. I can feel you fading. Nikolas, answer me! What the fuck is happening?! The desperation in her words anchored me, dragging me back from the edge. The floaty numbness receded just enough for me to think. I hadn't told her about my latest foster.

I didn't want her to worry, even if she was just a voice in my head. It wasn't like she could stop this. I'd known the risks when I stepped in for Lucy. Even now, sprawled on this filthy cot, half my blood soaking into cold stone, I couldn't regret it. Kid?! Talk to me! I forced my focus inward, clinging to her voice. I got fostered again. I sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it as pain ricocheted through my back. But it wasn't supposed to be me. They were set to take on Lucy.

I couldn't let that happen though. Not-. Not with how Mr. Bugle was looking at her. The memory slammed back into me. His stare. Lingering. Hungry. The kind of hunger that should never be turned on a child. Every instinct I had had screamed danger, every hair on my body standing on end the moment I saw him. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. And when he'd looked at Lucy's picture-. My stomach twisted. I'd seen the spark in his eyes. Depraved.

Possessive. Already imagining things no one ever should. And Lucy. Sweet, hopeful Lucy. She'd been so excited when she heard someone wanted to foster her, maybe even adopt her. She'd danced around the room, scars forgotten, self-consciousness gone, joy shining bright and fragile. I shuddered, tears spilling faster now. I tried to tell the others, I tried Karma. They told me I was paranoid, that I was trying to take this opportunity from Lucy. They wouldn't listen. And Mr. Bugle…

he'd looked like he wanted to devour her. He would have. I knew it. If I hadn't stepped in, ignored everyone insisting he was an upstanding citizen, Lucy would be here instead of me. No, her fate would have been even worse. I couldn't let him take her, twist her. So I… I meddled. I had a meeting with a couple and they were nice. Had a massive library, the mom baked every weekend. My breath hitched, a different kind of ache growing between my ribs. They wanted to adopt me. I asked them to take Lucy instead. Mr.

Bugle... was furious that she'd been claimed. He knew I did it and… Karma's response was a low, vicious hiss that raised goosebumps along my skin. Tell me he didn't touch you, she growled. Because I will burn your world and mine to ash if he did. Not like that. I soothed, focus sliding again. But I'm so cold. And everything hurts. For the first time since I'd met Karma, her voice cracked. Hey, hey! Stay with me, kid! Panic bled through every word. Look around. Find something, anything, to get out.

I can't adopt you if you're dead! Technically, she couldn't adopt me at all. But the fear in her voice forced my eyes open. She'd helped me countless times over the years, talked me through nights I wasn't sure I'd have pulled through alone. The least I could do was try to survive. For her.