The mirrors shattered around her, falling like dying stars.
Glass dissolved into smoke. Smoke slithered into the shadows. And shadows began to take shape.
115 bodies.
Encircling her like a tribunal of the damned.
Most of them were men. All young. All ruined at the hands of Havana.
White. Black. Brown. Beautiful. Broken.
Their skin shimmered like memories. Faces flickered with recognition and pain—pain she put there.
Every one of them had been inside her.
Some begged her to love them.
Some begged her to stop.
None of them were ever enough.
They stared with hollow eyes. Lips curled. Jaws clenched. Rage. Longing. Disgust. Every permutation of grief she refused to feel.
They spoke—one by one.
“You told me I was the only one. I believed you.”
“You laughed in my face when I cried f
