POV: Miss X (Rhiannon Blackmoor)
The sun sets behind rooftops as I walk. Its last light slices through the clouds. I hear Brookshire Valley hums in the distance. The loud car horns and the many chatters of occupants are slightly heard in this quieter and forgotten part of town. It smells of rust, dust, and bad memories.
My hood is pulled low, shadowing most of my face. Beneath it, I’m still wearing Draven’s shirt. The good a gift from him is too big, too soft, and too full of his scent which I can't seem to get rid.
I tell myself it means nothing, but I don’t believe it. I can still feel his hands on my skin caressing me. I can still feel the softness of his lips on mine. I can still feel the stir the memories of him makes me feel.
This is going to be so hard to put behind me
