But with him, it’s…different. I’m different. When he touches me, it’s like a storm breaking loose inside my veins. A lightning strike that splits me wide open, burns through every dark corner of my soul until there’s no space left for hatred or the self-loathing that eats at me. For the first time since Oakley, someone touched me and…and… Something bloomed. In the barren ruin of my chest, beneath ribs that have always felt like a cage, he planted something wild, untamable, something so vibrant it almost hurt. A secret flower. Thorny, forbidden, but undeniably alive.
