Cain
I didn’t plan to show up here.
Didn’t plan to hear her cry.
Didn’t plan to watch her fall apart right in front of me, in front of that girl she trusted—Jennie, the ever-judging saint.
But here I am.
And f**k, I hate how weak I feel just looking at her.
Saoirse is standing there like a storm that just gave up mid-rage. Her shoulders trembling. Her eyes wrecked. Her whole body practically screaming for someone to take the pain from her.
And the worst part?
I’m the one who put it there.
I’m the one who carved that hollowness into her chest and called it protection.
Jennie spins around when she hears my voice, her eyes wide like I’m the villain in her personal horror story.
Maybe I am.
But this isn’t about her.
This is about the girl who haunts every damn corner of my mind.
