My throat tightens, but I fight the internal sobs, picturing myself talking about thorns and roses and pillow stacks, and I thought for a moment he understood me. I choke within the clutches of betrayal. I thought we connected in a way I've never felt with another living soul, despite our age gap, despite our power divide, despite it all. I trusted him. What a fucking joke. Releasing the handle when my fist aches, I pull my knees up and cuddle them—alone again.
