Leone
The house is eerily quiet as I make my way upstairs, the echoes of my own footsteps the only sound. The storm outside has died down, leaving behind a stillness that feels oppressive and heavy. The food in my hand suddenly feels like a weight, like another responsibility I don’t want.
When I reach my bedroom, I set the container on the bedside table and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the darkened window. The rain has left streaks across the glass, and the dim light from the moon filters through, casting a cold glow over the room.
I can still see her face, the way her body shook with fear, the rawness of her skin where the dress had stuck to her wounds. I did that. I caused her pain.
She betrayed me. She had to learn.
Did she, though? The thought creeps in, uninvited, and
