Chapter 91

My breathing accelerates, the blood rises to my face when I turn to the wall with the rectangular glass and hit the photo on Conway's face. He falters in his cheerful expression, and I raise my middle finger, in an obscene and more liberating gesture than spitting it.

My smile doesn't fall apart, even with my destiny traced. Finally I recover from the state of pleasure, and hold the photo in my right hand, slipping the sweat of my nervousness into the soft texture of the frozen image. This is proof that I'm not completely unstable. Henry exists in my memory, in his smell still in my body, and in the dimpled smiles that give me goosebumps just remembering.

Conway failed in his false medical speech for not knowing how far Henry went for me. He doesn't know that we have our own paradise when we are together. Henry carefully rebuilt me, like a porcelain doll that breaks into several pieces after falling off the shelf. He calmed the wound in my soul and controlled the burning