I slam the door behind me, fists clenched, the Mark burning hot on my arm. It’s too much, everything’s too much. My mind’s a mess, and the pressure’s building.

I don’t even think. I just walk over to the mirror hanging on the wall and punch it—hard. The glass shatters, sharp pieces falling to the floor. My hand throbs, but the sting doesn’t even register.

My breath’s coming faster now, rage boiling over. I kick the dresser, sending it tumbling, and watch as it crashes to the floor.

The room’s in ruins, just like me. The Mark’s pulling at me, whispering, pushing me to give in. And I know—I feel it—I’m not far from doing just that.