“PAIN MADE US STRONGER, TEARS MADE US COLDER.”DANTE.The whiskey burns going down, but I barely notice anymore, alcohol over the years became like water to me, which–-well wasn’t such a great thing. I'm sitting in the guest room of Marco's house—my cousin's house, though I haven't seen the bastard in seven years and honestly don't care to, staring at the only thing I managed to keep safe through all those years in hell. A photograph. Worn at the edges now, creased from being folded and unfolded a thousand times, but still perfect. Still her.Sofia.My butterfly, She's laughing in this picture, her head thrown back, dark hair catching the sunlight. I took it on my phone that last day we were together, the morning before everything went to shit and I disappeared. I had it printed later, kept it hidden, and looked at it so many times the image is burned into my brain.I trace my finger along the edge of her face and feel that familiar ache in my chest. The one that's been there for se
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