Jake***
I watch as Belle stumbles back, her breathing uneven, her wide eyes brimming with confusion, fear—betrayal. Each backward step feels like a shard of glass slicing through me, carving away the last fragments of my humanity. I stretch out a trembling hand, desperate to bridge the chasm growing between us, but it’s useless. She’s already slipping beyond my reach, moving further away as if I were nothing more than a phantom.
Her steps are slow and deliberate, like she’s giving each one the weight of finality. The sight of her pulling away from me—her once-adoring gaze now cold and distant—burns through my chest like acid. I can feel her slipping from my life, a piece of me withering as she drifts further.
My fingers twitch, an unconscious attempt to hold back the darkness clawing at
