For a second, I don’t move, I just stand there in shock at what just unfolded. My mind is reeling at what he said, while also confirming everything I already knew but didn’t want to believe.
The echo of the slamming door reverberates through my bones long after the sound has faded. I remain pressed against the desk, my legs refusing to hold me, my breath coming in shallow, useless little puffs.
He didn’t deny it. Instead he painted a picture so vivid, so terrifying, that it stole the air from my lungs. “Rebuild you with my mark carved into every f*****g piece.” The words circle in my head, tearing at the last shreds of my sanity.
A sob, raw and ugly, finally breaks free. I slide down the leg of the desk until I’m a heap on the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees as if I can physicall
