~MARLOWE~
I stared at my reflection, my features distorted within the fissures stretching the length of the bathroom mirror. My hands shook as I gripped the sink. Tiny droplets of red dripped from my hand, staining the porcelain red with my blood. Dropping my eyes, I stared at the cuts and gashes, my thoughts racing.
Whispers of confusion filled my mind—Torin was alive. I’d suffered through a year of pain. Of grieving. Of walking a road of death that hadn’t been mine. How could he? How could he have done this? I had grieved over his casket, died with each toss of dirt placed upon it. Anger was a light emotion to the wail of fury that had arisen within me as I’d gazed at the features of the man who had taken my heart six-feet under with him.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Ta
