Cheryl’s POV
The morning light streamed through the pale curtains, brushing my room in gold, but it only made the pounding guilt in my head stronger.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my arms, feeling the faint bruises of last night's chaos beneath my skin. It was almost absurd how normal everything looked. The smell of bacon frying downstairs, the creak of the old wood floors in my aunt’s house, the chirping of birds outside.
But inside me?
Nothing felt normal.
Every time I closed my eyes, the gunshot echoed in my brain — loud, sharp, deadly. My fingers twitched at the memory, and I recoiled, wrapping my arms around my knees like they could somehow hold me together.
I had shot someone.
Not just anyone. Damon.
I hadn't meant to — God, I hadn't meant to. It was instinct, pure reflex. I had s
