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Not so much.
I was a living, breathing dead person.
That’s literally what I felt when I looked at myself in the mirror.
Dead.
At least, I should’ve been dead.
When I saw all the scars, all the things that had once been done to me… I just felt… lost.
Lost, and alone, and curious why I was even left alive.
Why was I the lucky one that made it out?
Why was I here, and Luca wasn’t?
Luca with the fiancée.
Luca with the family that actually cared.
Luca with the life that he never should’ve left.
I was still curious as fuck as to why he’d up and left such a perfect life.
Then again, I really didn’t know my reasons for joining either.
But if my parents now were anything like my parents when I’d enlisted? Yeah, there was a high
possibility that there was a damn good reason for me leaving, and it had a lot to do with the people that had raised me.
Or not raised me, according to what Morgan had to say today.
I blew out a breath and studied my face. Drawing the line of scars with my gaze.
I strained to remember something. Anything.
But it was just… nonexistent.
Gone.
Never fucking coming back ever.
I cursed and slammed my hand down on the vanity, causing my cup and toothbrush to be knocked
over with the move.
I hated not knowing.
I hated seeing the results, but not knowing what made them happen.
Even more, seeing the woman that had obviously played a role in my life, and feeling something
other than friendship spark inside of me, pissed me off.
What kind of asshole was I that I had desires for my best friend’s woman? My best friend’s
fiancée?
