Gabriel steadies himself on the doorframe, his knuckles white with pressure. The silence between us damns me more than any accusation could.
“I wanted to hurt you,” I choke out. “I wanted you to experience what I felt.”
His laugh holds no humor, the broken sound cutting through me. “Congratulations. Mission accomplished.”
The envelope in my hand grows heavier with each passing second. “I was going to destroy it.”
“But you didn’t,” Gabriel says softly. “You ordered it. You collected my DNA. You sent it away to be tested.”
I flinch at each statement.
“I came here to set things right.” His quiet devastation carves a hole in my chest. “To apologize for betraying your trust. My desire to protect you doesn’t justify my actions.”
His eyes meet mine, stripped of all defenses. “But now I’m not sure there’s anything left worth fixing.”
This isn’t a fight anymore. It’s a fundamental breach that undermines everything we might have become, and Gabriel doesn’t wait for a response.
He takes a step back, then another, and panic shoots through me.
“Gabe—”
“Don’t.” The gentle command somehow hurts more than anger ever would. “There’s nothing you can say right now that won’t make this worse.”
He turns and walks away down the hallway, and I let him go, unable to call out, unable to move from my spot in the doorway.
The sound of the stairwell door closing echoes, leaving me alone, and this time, it feels permanent.
I shut the door and slide down it until I hit thefloor, knees pulled to my chest. My head is clear for the first time in days, and the clarity hurts more than the whiskey or razor blades ever did.
This might break me in a way juvie never did. Because I did this to myself, destroying something I didn’t realize I needed until it was too late.
19
Idon’t know how long I sit on the floor after Gabriel leaves before the pain in my legs drags me out of the fog of self-recrimination.
Pins and needles race from my feet to my knees from staying in the same position for too long. I shift, wincing, unsure how long I’ve been here.
My finger still stings from where the paper sliced it open, but the blood has dried into a thin brown line across my thumb. I dig my nail into it, welcoming the dull throb that follows.
Physical pain is so much easier to handle than this.
The bare walls of my apartment stare back at me. Nothing personal. Nothing permanent. I’ve kept this place ready to abandon at the drop of a hat for solong that the emptiness has become its own kind of statement.
No photos. No mementos. Nothing that can’t be left behind.
Just like me.
I push off the floor, knees creaking. My footsteps echo as I cross to the kitchen counter where my phone sits. The screen lights up when I tap it, and my thumbs hover over the keyboard as I compose a message I never thought I’d send.
Saint
I crossed a line.
I took something you trusted me with, and I used it to hurt you. On purpose.
What happened to me isn’t an excuse.
I don’t expect forgiveness, but I needed to tell you I see it now.
