the thing with heat is, no matter how cold you are, no matter how much you need warmth, it always, eventually, becomes too much. i remember many winters spent with the window cracked open, letting in the blistering cold to combat the fire burning in the family room below. something about the icy air helped me sleep. and now deep gasps of an autumn breeze help me to calm down, help me to forget Cal alone back in the safe house. ‘i should have not done that’, i think, pressing a hand to my fevered skin. he is not only a distraction i can’t afford but a heartbreak waiting to happen. his allegiances are shaky at best. one day he will leave, or die, or betray me like so many others have. one day, he will hurt me. overhead, the sun had completely set, painting the sky in darkening streaks of red and orange. maybe. i can’t trust the colors i see. i can’t trust in much of anything anymore.
an excerpt from GLASS SWORD (Red Queen Bk.2 C.18 p.251) by: Victoria Aveyard