Luther
I don’t know how to comfort her. Hell, I didn’t even know the word comfort until now. Amanda is shaking, she’s lying in my bed, curled up tight in a fetal position. Her body shakes with each shallow breath, like she’s trying to hold herself together, but she’s slipping. I don’t know what to say, I don't even know how to touch her without feeling like I’ll break her more.
Blaze broke her. I see it in the way her eyes are hollow now, the way she flinches at shadows.
And that bastard—he thinks a damn apology is going to fix this? I can still hear the echo of his last voicemail, the desperation in his voice. But I don't care. I killed the phone, just like I wanted to kill him.
Amanda shudders again, and I feel something snap in my chest. I can’t stand seeing her like this. But I don
