Sammy sank onto her perfectly made-up bed and covered his face with his hands, pain shredding his heart into a million ribbons. The silence was deafening. Other than the faint trace of her perfume, it was like she’d never been there at all. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words echoed back at him, heavy and sorrowful. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. It hurt. The air, the silence, everything. It hurt so fucking bad he might as well have fed his heart through a wood chipper and stomped on the resulting pieces for good measure.
