The Show Must Go On

"Do you even know what you could've done?!" Jonah all but shrieked at Atticus, who only lazily sat at the edge of the bed, squeezing the last drops of water out of his trousers. Once he was done, he stuck his pinkie into his ear and began to dig, looking at the nonexistent dirt on the tip of his finger.

"I knew when to stop…" Atticus murmured, appearing as nonchalant as ever when in truth, his heart was slowly starting to pick up its pace again.

The bout of cold water had only calmed him down for a brief moment. Now that he was starting to warm up, the feeling was returning slowly but surely. It was just that the only person he desired was long gone.

Away. Safe from him.

"He isn't fully to blame, Jonah," Sirona said. She walked over to Atticus, holding out a glass of water followed by a handkerchief. Once Atticus took the glass, she unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small, round pill inside. "The antidote," she explained.