His Madness, Her Unforgiving Vengeance

Fitzpatr

lone." I whispered, hitt

The memory of his hands on my skin, his lips on my neck, was an intrusive film playing on a loop in my mind. He had been so c

A calculated act to extract m

us tendrils wrapping around my heart, squeezing until it ached. I curled into a fetal position on my bed, pullin

rs versus his public display of affection with Jodi. The contrast was a brutal whiplash. My mind,

thoughts dragged me into a fitful, shallow sleep. It w

curtains. My head throbbed. The first thing I noticed was the oppressiv

a good morning message, a quick call if one of us went silent for too long. He had always been the first to notice, the fi

lized, were fragile things. They could be broken, discarded, as easily as a cham

t harsh, intrusive. My eyes burned. I reached for my phone, a reflex, a mu

ils and a few group chat message

s long as I could remember. He was the anchor, the north star, the one person I had always believed would be ther

reflection in the bathroom mirror was a stranger. Pale, hollow-eye

rying to numb the ache, to wash away the shame. But

him as a son. The thought of explaining this, of putting words to the gaping wound in my he

, but the seat across from me, the one Kade always occupied when he stayed over, was empty. It felt like a monument to his absence. I remembered

art leaped, a flicker of foolish hope igniting i

otification. My breath hitched. Another blow. Another reminder. And it was a