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Love? That word sounds minimal compared to what I once felt for her. She was life. She was … everything.
This bitch is my heaven and my hell. My angel and my demon. And here I am, staring down the very woman I gave everything to, only for her to take it and run, never looking back.
He never spoke to me that way back when we were in love. Now he hates me. I hate him just as much, if not more.
He looks at me with indifference as if I’m some stranger he’s passing on the street and not like the girl he once planned to marry. And I hate how much that hurts.
I may hate her, but they don’t deserve her. She would be useful to me. And if anyone is going to use her, it’s going to be me. She owes me that. She owes me fucking everything.
She doesn’t make a sound even though I know it hurt. I like the way she takes pain. It’s almost like she needs it even though she always seemed so fragile.
“Everyone knows who you are, Avery. And your father. You don’t own slaves.” He shakes his head. “You’re not like him. Never were.” I smile. “I do now.” Then I swing the hammer.
