~~Scarlette~~
“What do you know about brokenness?”
That’s what I asked a woman who once sat across from me during a counseling session—shaking, sobbing, on the edge of madness.
Now I wonder…
Where would I place my own madness?
Hers came from loss.
Mine came from loving the wrong people and blaming myself for their sins.
From being touched, broken, stitched up—and still pretending I’m whole.
She cried. I pitied her.
But maybe I should’ve pitied myself first.
I heaved the moment Liam screeched the car to a stop outside the Newton house. I hadn’t even realized we’d arrived—until the flood of bright lights from the building hit my eyes through the narrow slit in the window. It burned a little.
“Gosh, why are there so many damn lights?” I snapped, irritated.
“I guess Mother’s back,”
