DANTE’S POV
The morning sun crept through the half-opened windows. Casting long silver hues on my skin. I lay still, my gaze fixed on the window, but my thoughts... my thoughts were anything but calm, almost pulling my brain to my body.
On the outside, I was motionless, held together. But under that shell was a storm. Whirling, unrelenting chaos.
Some mornings waking up, it felt like everything would get better soon. That the strain is pulling, it feels like I'm healing. But they never last, the hope of freedom only keeps coming back, but it never happens. It's like I'm trapped in a loop. I can't flee, no matter how many sunrises I see. The ache remains. I have tried to pretend that it wasn't there, but it tugs harder at my soul each time, like a band around my heart.
I stirred gently
