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Once, I reveled in the taste of vengeance, intoxicated by the potent cocktail of power and retribution.But as time passed, all I tasted was the bitter residue of regret.It lingered inside me, filling me with a profound sense of remorse.I replayed those days repeatedly in my mind, each iteration a fresh stab of guilt.
The look in Evie’s eyes—a mixture of fear and betrayal—was something I would never forget.It was a look that haunted me, reminding me of the monster I had become.
And Jet, his strangled cries, his attempts to comfort Evie despite his own torment, painted a picture of love that I had tried to tear apart.A love that survived my twisted games and thrived despite them.
With each passing day, I found myself wishing for a chance to rewrite my life.
A chance to choose compassion over vengeance, love over hatred.It became impossible to live with myself, and then ...well, I had to live with my own consequences.
ChapterThirty-Eight
Sanford
Now...
The words on the page become a blur.Each one pierces my heart like a dagger, leaving me raw and torn.Each sentence I read feels like another punch of horror unfolding before my eyes.It’s just too much to handle.I knew it would be bad, but this ...
My stomach churns, rebelling against the awful scene I’m picturing, and suddenly I’m on my feet, stumbling toward the bathroom.I barely make it there in time before I start retching, the sound bouncing off the walls and making my head throb.
The sour taste of vomit lingers in my mouth, making me feel sick all over again.I lean against the cold sink, gripping it tightly as if it’s my only anchor.
I can’t unsee what I’ve read, can’t unlearn the horrible things done to them.I wasn’t there, but I could hear their screams, echoing in my head, piercing through my thoughts and leaving a mark that won’t fade away.
I feel dirty, contaminated by the knowledge of what they endured.The cruelty of a mad woman and a twisted man.I wish I could scrub it away.I wish I could turn back the hands of time and shield them from such pain.If only I had been there, but I was busy saving others, and now the two people I loved ...
Raw anger begins to bubble up inside me, hot and fierce.I look into the mirror, and I can hardly recognize the man staring back at me.My usually bright eyes look dull and haunted, wanting revenge.But there’s no one to pay.Instead, I should learn to forgive, to help him heal.I feel a renewed determination settle within me.I have to help Grey.This couldn’t have been easy to read.
Grey ...I must get back to him.
I rinse my mouth, my eyes fixed on my reflection.“You can do this,” I whisper, giving myself a silent pep talk to gather my courage.
Returning to the living room, I find Grey still in the same position, his face pale, his eyes distant.I swallow hard, fighting against the urge to vomit again.
“I’m so terribly sorry, babe,” I apologize, my voice filled with remorse.
All this time, I thought he chose drugs as an easy way to numb his pain.I had no clue they were forcefully pumped into his veins for weeks, trapping him in their grip.He became dependent on them, and no one knew how to help him so he could break free.Like many, I just assumed he took the easy way out to escape.
Grey runs his trembling hands through his hair, clutching onto the strands with desperation.It’s a heartbreaking sight, a silent plea for help.He appears trapped between an unyielding rock and a hard place.The knuckles of his hand turn white, most likely mirroring the intensity of his inner turmoil.
The air thickens around us, charged with unspoken words, resembling a Titan ready to unleash its fury against humanity.I can’t tear my gaze away from Grey.His eyelids squeeze shut tightly, as if attempting to shut out the world, perhaps even shutting me out.
He sits in my living room, vulnerable and defenseless, baring the raw, unfiltered pain he’s concealed for far too long, and I don’t know what to do.
“Grey, I’m right here, babe.I wish I had been by your side all along,” I start, my voice trembling slightly under the weight of the moment.He remains silent, but the grip on his hair loosens ever so slightly, a small sign that he’s listening.
“I’m here, Grey,” I repeat, my voice barely above a breath, and add, “right here, and I want to help.Let me be there for you.”
His shoulders sag, and for an instant, a glimmer dances in his eyes.Is it a plea?Resignation?An ...?What the fuck is it?It’s hard to tell.
The biography feels heavier than ever as I close it and move it from the couch, placing it on the table.Its words have carved deep grooves into my mind, and I can’t shake off the reality it depicted, the agony Grey and my girl went through.The images it conjured up leave me in a state of desolation.
Grey rises from his seat, pacing back and forth before settling by the window, his gaze vacant and distant.It’s as if he’s transported miles away, lost in the ocean of his memories.The reminders of her, which he probably avoided until the biography unearthed them.
Swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, I tread cautiously.“Grey, please don’t shut yourself down.Let me be here for you.”
He doesn’t turn to face me, but I sense his shoulders stiffen.“I’d rather not, Sanford,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a plea I struggle to ignore.“It’s all in the past.You heard it.She’s gone.Maybe I should be too.”
My world shatters at his words.He can’t leave me.Though we’re not together, I couldn’t imagine a world without him.At this point, I have no fucking idea what I’ll do tomorrow, when I finally digest the news that she’s gone.The world lost a beautiful, kind soul, and my heart is half dead.
