Scarlet
I want to move on from my past, and that includes you.
My words had become a haunting refrain, looping in my head like a cursed melody. Sometimes whispered. Sometimes screamed. Sometimes laced with a smirk, I couldn’t forget even if I tried. I am proud that I said, but some part of me is not able to enjoy this as much as I thought I would.
The worst part? It wasn’t just what I said.
It was how he looked at me when I said it—like I was picking his wound. Like I was something painful. Like I mattered. And that made it worse.
I stared at the ceiling of my room, the same cracked corner above my bed I’d counted a thousand times before, and tried to remember how it felt not to care about Damien Vanderwood. Sadly, I can’t remember such a time.
The version of me—the one who didn’t fl
