He Broke Me, I Broke Us
In the painting, a man was cutting into a woman's hand, while blood and tears streamed from her eyes.
An elderly professor standing nearby exclaimed, "Absolutely spectacular! I feel pain, betrayal, and despair from each and every stroke!"
"Ms. Shepherd?" Lexie whispered in my ear. "Mr. Hawthorn is here, right there at the very back."
I didn't turn my head but simply said, "Let's start."
The lights dimmed, and the projector flickered on. A video began to play. It was the surveillance footage from the interrogation room.
On the screen, Vincent whipped me relentlessly, his voice sharp and clear. "You love destruction, don't you? Well, I'll show you what destruction is."
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