The Crulest Kind of Love
I couldn't let my father's name be dragged through the mud because of me.
For years, this was how it had been— Alexander would do anything to make me suffer.
That once all-consuming love had turned into a hatred so deep it devoured me whole.
The thought alone was enough to make me feel desolate.
Suddenly, a fresh wave of blood gushed down my legs.
Clutching the wall for support, I staggered to clean myself up, then, ignoring the stabbing pain coursing through my body, I left the healer's den.