A wail poured from her throat as she fought to remain whole, but lost. She wanted to curl into a ball to preserve what she could, but the truth pulled at her, demanding its payment. Her heart tore into two. People talked about a broken heart, a metaphor for sadness. But at that moment, Gina knew it was no metaphor. A ragged cut slowly pulled her apart, like a piece of paper being ripped in two. She would never be whole again. No amount of ointment or bandages would heal it.
