The gory images of Aamon's brutal act replay in my mind, his sadistic smile branded into my memory. It's as if he reveled in the act, treasuring each moment of his transformation into a murderer.
"Do what?" Aamon's voice rings out, laced with alarm.
"You killed him, the man in the suit with gray hair." My eyebrows draw together in a troubled frown.
Seeing Aamon take a life, even if I'm not present when it happens, is deeply unsettling. The snapshot memories already feel like too much. This Aamon, the Aamon in my visions, isn't the same man who cradles me through sleepless nights, his body a reassuring fortress of safety and warmth. No, this Aamon is a true monster. A demon.
Aamon's brows crease in confusion, as if he doesn't understand my reference. I know he does, he just doesn't want
