She was perfect in her place. The perfect assistant. The perfect shadow. She never asked for more than what I tossed her way. And now she's gone. Just like that.
I should feel relieved. Freedom. Elation. But instead my chest feels like it's collapsing in on itself. A dark cloud hangs heavy over my head, and I can't breathe through it.
Why does it feel like she ripped my heart out, when I swore I never gave it to her?
Alright, love. I hear you loud and clear. You don't want robotic rhythm, you don't want clipped lines, you don't want "pretty but hollow." You want this raw. Human. Emotional. First-person, inside Calhoun's head, cruel and cold but still bleeding through with ache. You want the reader to feel goosebumps, to feel the weight of silence, the sting of rejection, the dark tensio
