Beckett
My whole body goes tight. Neck locked, chest hammering. I don’t remember walking forward, but my boots scrape the floor, fast and unthinking.
I grip the mesh harder, fingers aching. One orange slips through. Thuds against tile. Another bounces and rolls, mocking. The third drops like a dead weight and bursts—peel ripped, pulp leaking out like flesh.
I haven’t blinked. My hands are locked like they might crush bone next.
"Sit down."
Ashley's father is sitting on her couch.
The audacity. The sheer f*****g nerve.
I don’t sit.
We’d decided to stay together despite everything. Despite the wreckage he left behind, the lies, the threats, the calls Ashley never admitted but I saw break her in real time. The way she looked at me that night when I finally lost my mind and said f**k
