To herself?
To him?
I press closer.
She’s rocking.
Muttering.
“He’s not real. He’s not Damien. Damien wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t?—”
Her voice breaks. She covers her mouth with her hands like she’s trying to catch the scream before it escapes.
She’s shattering.
And he’s letting her.
I punch the screen.
It doesn’t crack.
It laughs.
Distorted audio blares—a low, warped version of my voice: “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here. Just like you asked.”
Then silence.
Then a sound I didn’t expect?—
her moan.
But it’s not pleasure.
It’s a cry.
Of confusion.
Of betrayal.
Of survival.
I fall to my knees, fists bruised, blood on my tongue from biting down so hard I split my lip.
He’s not just touching her.
He’s replacing me.
The screen flickers again.
Static blurs the image for a second. I brace for it.
I should’ve looked away.
But I don’t.
Because it’s her.
Raven.
