Ray flopped back onto the still-messy bed. His breathing was ragged—not from being physically wiped, but from the kind of fed-up that had piled all the way to the top of his skull. Milady's voice kept buzzing in his head like a nasty fly that refused to dip.
"You wanna do whatever the hell you want? Fine, asshole! I'm already losing it!" Ray yelled into the empty air. His voice came out hoarse, bouncing off the quiet bedroom walls. "Wanna wreck my life, wanna bring Sonya's memories back, wanna screw with my brain till I go crazy—do it! I'm done!"
Ray squeezed his eyes shut, threw both hands up, then just let them drop onto the mattress. Surrendered. Numb. He was at that point where Milady's threats didn't even scare him anymore—just left him bone-tired.
Milady's laugh rang louder, itchy and pleased, like she was soaking up every drop of frustration leaking out of him.
