THE GOLDEN BOY'S TARGET
She nods, distracted, mentions dinner, closes the door
and just like that, I’m alone again
I sink onto the floor, back against the bedframe
stare at the ceiling until the shapes start to move
I can almost hear Carter’s voice in my head, that lazy drawl
You make it too easy
I press my palms over my ears until my arms ache
but it’s no use
voices like his don’t need permission to stay
---
Bethany texts around midnight
We’ll fix this. Somehow.
I don’t answer right away
because I don’t know what “fixing” means anymore
I don’t know if you can fix a story once people decide how it ends
I type
Maybe if I just stay quiet, they’ll forget
then delete it
The moonlight cuts through my curtains, too brigh
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