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This life had pushed him to his worst.
He'd tried his entire life...
He'd tried to be a better person.
To overcome his pain...
To be a hero...
But he was no hero.
He was a villain.
He was far gone.
Amara was watching him.
The woman in white.
The woman had died.
The wolves had been punished.
The eagle had torn their eyes out.
The eagle was wounded now.
The eagle was demented.
The eagle had turned into a wolf.
The world had turned him into a monster.
His mother wouldn't recognize him.
Amara wouldn't recognize him.
He didn't recognize himself.
A monster.
A murderer.
A villain.
Soulless.
Demented.
Defeated.
The ringing in his ears gave way to Chris's yells. His resentment grew inside him like a tumor and ate him up. He watched Giselle's limp body. He watched Chris shaking her, screaming for her to stay awake. Their voices sounded too far away. Too foggy.
His hand shook, the gun feeling heavy as he raised it to his temple. Giselle was all he saw—the only red in his vision of black and white. He closed his eyes, preserving her face in his mind, that he was going to take with him to oblivion.
His hand didn't shake anymore.
This was it.
