Cassian's POV
I stood, the rage returning, not at her this time, but at myself. At the monster that lived inside me.
The one I had inherited.
I reached for the drawer and pulled out the syringe. The familiar sting of the needle against my skin was almost comforting.
I remembered the doctor's words, "Cassian has been through so much trauma that it has created a split in his personality. He has dissociative identity disorder, which, if not treated properly, could cause future problems for him and everyone around him."
An identity disorder, the monster my father created after he died in my hands.
I stared at my reflection in the polished steel wall, the dark eyes, the empty stare, the faint tremor in my hands. I didn't recognize the man looking back at me.
And for the first time in a long while, I felt afraid of myself.
