Page 24 of Psycho Gods

It was funny how pain felt sharper in certain situations. Sometimes adrenaline and depression masked the hurt, and other times they amplified the agony.

Nothing was masking it now.

I was raw.

Life’s a cruel bitch.

“Lean back.” Dr. Palmer glared at Scorpius until he settled back against the couch with a huff.

“I want to remind you all that these sessions are for your benefits.” She scowled at each of us. “I’m not the one the High Court forced into therapy—I’m not the one suffering from bond sickness with the people I have to lead a war with.” She scoffed, like if it were up to her, she would never have chosen us as leaders. “But you do.”

Her glare was cutting.

Why hadn’t we recruited her for the war effort? She’d make a good general.

As if she read my mind, Dr. Palmer narrowed her eyes.

I could so see her stabbing people.

Scorpius barked out a string of profanities.

E-x-h-a-u-s-t-i-o-n.

It pulled me apart.

“You should join the military,” I said, and at the same time, she asked, “Aran, how do you feel?”

She gave me a withering look. “Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

“Yes, General,” I whispered.

A rain droplet left a trail across the glass.

“So can I speak now to answer, or is there a time limit?” I asked as I debated how to tell her I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.

“Aran.” She said my name like a curse and took a deep breath. “Moving on, how do you feel when Scorpius tells you what to do?”

I dug my nail deeper into my lip.

“Do you not like when he orders you around?” She pointedly looked at the blood dripping down my chin.

I scoffed. “Obviously not.” I tried to wipe the copper taste off my tongue with the arm of my sweatshirt.

A beating heart throbbing against my tongue. Mother’s blood down my throat.

“The fact that he told you not to pick at your lip—” Dr. Palmer nodded like she was realizing something (she was delusional). “—is making you act out of spite. Spite is an intense psychological response to a negative valence such as disappointment or betrayal.”

Rain streaked drearily across the window. Cold air blew on the top of my head. Orion’s thigh pressed against mine.

“Have these men betrayed you?”

Scorpius’s chuckle was harsh, as if he wheezed with pain.

I would have joined him, but I didn’t laugh with men. I only laughed at them.

A voice in my head laughed at my joke, like a monster that didn’t exist, like the Angel Consciousness that did exist allegedly, like an angel guardian, like ancient peace accords that left us stranded, fighting a war.

It’s fine.

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