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GLYNDON I’m losing a piece of myself. And it’s happening so fast that I can’t catch my breath during the process. In fact, I only realized it when I couldn’t sleep in the flat I share with the girls anymore. It became absolutely strange and appalling to sleep on any bed other than Killian’s. It’s been three weeks since that night I woke up with his dick inside me and slowly fused my life with his. I’m losing control—or whatever control I have. Which is why I’m drinking right now with everyone in a downtown quiet-ish pub. Well, as quiet as pubs that uni kids go to can get. At least it’s not rowdy like the bigger club on the other side of town. An unknown band plays in the background, the music drowned out by the sound of chatter and the pinging of billiard balls. The smell of alcohol permeates the air or maybe just my nose. I don’t usually drink, because it makes me act like a fool, but it’s not like I’m doing it with strangers. After making sure I have enough shots to send me into a co