My Princess: I was bullied in England.
My Princess: I thought coming here would be a fresh start. But then I met you, and it wasn’t any different.
My Princess: It hurts because if you had just stopped for a second, if you had just given me a chance, you would’ve seen that I wasn’t trying to hurt you.
My Princess: You would’ve seen me.
I dropped the phone in my lap.
My throat felt raw.
My Princess: Being bullied from five to eighteen is tiring.
My Princess: You made me tired.
I pressed my hands into my face, shaking. The kind of shaking that comes from the inside out.
I wanted to say something, anything, but what was there left to say?
She didn’t yell.
Didn’t blame.
Didn’t even tell me to leave her alone.
She just told me the truth.
The kind of truth that doesn’t need to be screamed to cut.
I looked up at her then, still sitting on the couch, blanket slipping off her shoulder, her eyes unfocused again, but this time there was no anger in them.
Just exhaustion.
And I wished she would’ve yelled.
At least then, I could fight back.
At least then, I could pretend I hadn’t already lost her.
“I lost it all, didn’t I?”
The words barely made it past my throat. They just… fell out. Quiet. Empty. The kind of quiet that hurts worse than any scream ever could.
She didn’t move.
Her silence was the answer.
And fuck, it said everything.
But I kept going anyway because Joshua Lockhart doesn’t know when to stop. When to shut the fuck up.
Desperate fucker.
“I knew we both were going through something. Both stuck in hell—just different kinds,” I paused, trying to find the words. “But the difference is… you were trying to find the light.”
My chest was tight. “And me? There’s no hope for someone like me anymore.”
She still didn’t look at me. Didn’t need to. I wasn’t saying this for her forgiveness. I was saying it because it was killing me to hold it in.
