SLOANE’S POINT OF VIEW.

We make eye contact through the mirror. He stands in a darker part of the bathroom; it’s almost like I was hallucinating, and he wasn’t really here with me. My eyes squint to see him clearly, and he chooses that moment to walk into the light.

I gasp sharply, taking the look in his eyes.

His blue eyes are almost obsidian now…they’re filled with something dangerous, something tethering off a great edge, and I think he’s already gone over, and I’d be left to ...