[Vanessa]
I stared at the picture in my hand. My eyes flicked up to the tiny, worn box I had taken it from. It smelled faintly of old paper and dust, but also of memories I hadn’t touched in years. Tears prickled my eyes as I traced the face in the photo.
The memories came rushing back, fast and relentless. I tried to blink them away, tried to fight the burning ache in my chest, but the tears slipped anyway, streaking down my cheeks, warm and angry. Every inch of me felt like it was on fire. Rage, grief, longing—they all tangled together, raw and sharp.
I’ve come this far. I’m not going back.
I sniffed hard, the sound harsh in the quiet room, letting the tears fall freely.
If this was how far I had to go just to see everything fall into place, I would go further. Further than anyone
