I curled into a ball, knees pressed to my chest, arms wrapping around my trembling body. The cold floor was unforgiving, a harsh contrast to the burning shame that consumed me. My throat was raw, my lips swollen and bruised, but it was my heart that ached the most—splintered into pieces so small I couldn’t even feel it anymore.
Judas was gone. He left me lying here, broken and discarded like I was nothing. I wasn’t even a person to him. I was a possession. A toy he could break over and over again just to prove a point.
Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and thick, sliding down my cheeks as silent sobs racked my body. My fingers clutched at the torn fabric of my sweater, but it offered no comfort. I was exposed—physically, emotionally, entirely. I could feel every bruise, every mark of his
