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‘Eleanor!’ Becker shouts repeatedly, desperately.
I swing around and see him on the other side of the road, bare-chested, his eyes frantically trying to keep me in view while he dives between cars, smacking bonnets and yelling for people to stop. But his shouts fade to nothing when a bus comes between us and I disappear down a side street. I don’t know where I’m going. Have no idea what to do.
My new start, my new life free from grief, guilt, pain and betrayal has been stolen.
Becker Hunt stole my heart.
Ripped it from my chest.
How is it possible that my heaven has transformed into the worst kind of hell?
Betrayal.
How could my spirit be unearthed and then lost again?
Stolen.
His angel eyes have danger looming behind their beauty.
Grief.
My saint really is a sinner.
I will never get over this.
Agony.
