Serayah Morgan.
In his car, I completely fall apart. I pour out my eyes out in literal tears and clamp a hand over my mouth, thinking I can stifle the sobs. It doesn’t work. My body shudders, breaking down like a fragile dam against a tide. I bury my face in my hands, soaking them. Did he have to break my father like that?
I don’t know how long I cry; it feels endless, yet it must be only minutes before I hear the car door open. The weight of the vehicle shifts as Roar gets in, silent and unmoving for a moment, before he starts the engine.
The car takes off like a bullet. The grumble of the engine echoes in the silence as he speeds through the dark roads like he's in a video game, dodging every turn effortlessly. I don’t bother lifting my face to look at him. What’s the point? My tear
