The moment I got to my bedroom, it felt like the walls of my room were closing in on me.
I sat on the bed, staring at the door, listening to the fading sound of his footsteps as silence swallowed the space.
Then, shame crashed down on me.
My knees buckled, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands covering my face. A choked sob escaped before I could swallow it down.
What have I done?
Shame squeezed the air from my lungs. This wasn’t supposed to happen. My body had betrayed me. His scent still clung to my skin, the sheets, the air— everything, and I hated how much I wanted to drown in it.
My parents would roll in their graves.
I pressed a fist against my lips, trying to silence the sobs racking my body, but the tears came anyway.
My mother, who had once held me in the safety of her arms.
My father had given his life to protect his family.
What would they say if they could see me now—broken and undone by the very man who had destroyed everything they built?
A fresh wave of disgust
