amasiuncula

[amasiuncula]

✥ .: 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 :. ✥

“𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡: 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦.”

The weight that had once anchored Michaela had begun to lift, the chains of trauma slowly uncoiling from her ankles. She was starting to rediscover herself to understand not just who she was but how she was supposed to 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧 from the pain that had shaped her for years. But did that mean she was healed? No. Not even close. Confusion still clung to her, and shock still laced her every thought. This was never the life she had imagined, and she certainly never expected to love someone like 𝐡𝐢𝐦. Joshua Grant should have repulsed her. Every part of him, the darkness in his eyes, the danger in his touch, should have sent chills down her spine. But instead, he pulled her in. She wanted him. She needed him. She ached for him. How could she crave the very thing that should have terrified her? She had no answer. Michaela couldn’t make sense of her mind. What was wrong with her? How could she still feel love for him after everything? She had spent so long searching for the truth; now that she had it, he was all she could think about. He had seeped into her veins, threading himself into her like a toxin she could never purge. Joshua Grant had become a part of her; no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of him. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had ever seen her every damaged, broken piece and still wanted her. Or perhaps it was because he was the first man to touch her heart truly. She had loved Shawn once, or at least she thought she had, but that had been a lie. A performance. A relationship built on nothing 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥. She had stayed with him to help him find himself, but Josh had helped her discover who 𝐬𝐡�� was. They were bound by something neither could escape—a 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 that would tether them together until the last breath left one of their lungs. Michaela knew it. She accepted it. But if that was true…did it mean she was just as unhinged as he was? Lately, Michaela had found herself grappling with a question she couldn’t shake—one that surfaced the moment she handed Josh the documents detailing her pregnancy and miscarriage. She had convinced herself that in doing so, she was reclaiming her power. But the second she saw him, she knew the truth. The feelings were still there, lingering like a ghost she couldn’t outrun. So she did the only thing she could—she ran. She ran to the one person who had been there since the day she met Josh. The one person who had seen it all unfold. Selina Tsai—her best friend.

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

Dark chocolate curls tumbled loosely around Michaela’s petite shoulders as she combed her fingers through them, a quiet sigh slipping from her lips. Michaela’s eyes remained locked onto the screen before her, lost in the past, until a familiar voice cut through the silence. “Michaela, will you stay locked up in that room all day?” The words jolted Michaela back to the present. Her head shook slightly, her lashes fluttering as she blinked away the thoughts clouding her mind. “And what if I am?” Michaela muttered, dark eyes still fixated on the images glowing on the screen; there he was again, Joshua Grant. His gaze bore into hers, frozen in time, his lips stretched into that familiar smile. The memory of that day played so vividly in her mind—before the pain, before the betrayal. Back when things were simple. Back when Michaela still believed in him. Michaela knew staring at this screen was a mistake. She knew she should feel disgusted. But she didn’t because the truth was that she missed him. Michaela missed him when they were innocent. “Excuse me, what the hell is this?” Michaela snapped the laptop shut, her head jerking to find Selina in the doorway. Michaela’s eyes widened, and nervous laughter tumbled from her throat. “It’s… it’s…” Selina lifted a hand, cutting Michaela off with a shake of Selina’s head. “I don’t want to hear it.” Selina’s voice softened, but the disappointment was clear as day. “I know some of you will always love that loser and wish things had turned out differently, but the truth is…” Selina exhaled sharply, letting her hand fall. “He stole your happiness, Michaela. He’s the reason you don’t believe in love anymore. The reason you ran from California and ended up here with me. You’ve spent the last two years falling apart because of him. We’re in Paris, but you’re still in California.” Selina’s words hit harder than Michaela expected. “You have to let him go, Mouse.” That nickname made Michaela’s chest tighten. Selina was right. Josh was the reason Michaela had become the person she was today. When they met, Michaela was already spiraling, barely holding on after losing her father. Michaela had been lost, but Josh had dragged Michaela down further instead of saving her. Michaela’s head dipped in a slow nod, a sigh slipping from her lips. “I know you’re right,” Michaela admitted, her voice quieter now. “I know I need to let him go. I know nothing good can come from this. I know who he truly is, and I know he’ll never change.” Michaela’s lips twisted into something resembling a smile, her arms wrapping around Selina’s slender frame. “And I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through as my best friend.” Selina hugged me back, her warmth grounding Michaela in a way nothing else could. “You don’t have to apologize,” Selina murmured, pulling back just enough to kiss Michaela's forehead. “But you do have to be strong. You have to let him go, Michaela. You deserve a fresh start.” Selina stepped back, meeting Michaela's gaze with quiet determination. “I’m giving you one more day to grieve him. That’s it. After today, no more, okay?” Michaela couldn’t find her voice, so Michaela just nodded. Selina gave Michaela a final look before turning for the door. “I’m going out. Get some rest; we’re having a girls’ day tomorrow.” Michaela sat there long after Selina left, replaying our conversation repeatedly. Michaela knew Selina was right. Michaela should let Josh go. But how? How do you let go of someone when you don’t even remember how they got into your heart in the first place? When had she lost myself to him? Was it the first time they met? The first time he touched her? The first time he said her name like it meant something? Michaela didn’t know when she had fallen for Joshua Grant. But she knew one thing for sure: letting him go would be the hardest thing she’d ever do.

Michaela’s head sank into the blush pillow, her dark eyes tracing the lazy spin of the ceiling fan. Michaela’s lids grew heavy, exhaustion finally pulling her under. A whisper slipped from her lips, so soft it barely filled the space around her. “Joshua…” And just like that, sleep took her. Once again, her mind belonged to the blue-eyed devil.

​•••

“M, all of me is meant for you and only you. The sooner you stop fighting our love, the sooner we can be together.” Cracking a slow and triumphant grin, Josh silently hooked a finger around the thin fabric of her panties and walked past her, pulling on the lace like a leash for her to follow. “You are mine.” Joshua stopped once they reached his bed and nudged her to sit at the edge as he pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side. Dropping to his knees, he pulled her hips downward and slipped her legs open, trailing slow, supple kisses up her thigh. “Stop fighting your feelings for me, M.” Michaela’s tongue wet her lips as he propped her legs open, whimpering softly as he placed soft kisses up her inner thigh. This was a bad idea, but she wanted to sin with the devil. “Josh..What are you doing?” Hungry, wet, and deviously slow kisses lined her thighs until he finally reached her lace-clad pussy, pulling the fabric to the side. A guttural, breathy moan swept past his lips as he continued his kisses, starting from her already throbbing clit and moving down with ease before swiping his tongue back up. Josh repeated the process, greedily slipping his tongue in between her folds, teasing her entrance without ever prying his gaze on her. “M, don’t ask questions you know the answer to.” Anchoring his hands against her thighs to keep her hips still, he swirled his tongue over her clit, tracing patterns and gently sucking for the perfect amount of friction to watch her body writhe under his grasp. “Fuck, M.” Watching her unfold was fuel to the fire that was already ignited in his core, raging to feel, taste and fuck her until they were both sweat-slicked and breathless. Lapping up her wetness with the flat of his tongue, his lips went back to work on her clit, sucking and dragging tight circles of added friction while his fingers slipped in between her legs, massaging her soaked folds. “You are mine.” Lifting his head and abandoning her clit momentarily, he slowly sank his middle and index finger into her entrance, ravenously licking his lips as he watched in awe at how perfect her walls constricted around his digits. “You belong to me.” Josh pumped his fingers in and out at an agonizingly slow pace for the both of them, muttering a series of curses under his breath. “You burn for me and me alone.” A smirk ghosted across his features before he rolled his tongue back to its rightful place against her clit, sloppily tracing the letters of his name along the aching nub, all while keeping up with the pace of his fingers. “Wake up, Emerald, and come back to me.”

Michaela’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as whiskey-stained hues swept over the darkened room. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, a steady, relentless rhythm as she pushed herself upright, clutching the heavy duvet against her chest. "I’m coming."The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them, quiet yet sure, and in that moment, she knew—she could never let him go. No matter what had happened between them, no matter how much pain had been woven into their story…Her heart was, and always would be, his.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 —𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐱, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫��, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡.

[amasiuncula]

✥ .: 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 :. ✥

“𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐢𝐭? 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐩. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝.”

The truth had finally surfaced, crashing down on Michaela with a pain so unfamiliar it left her breathless. Why? The question echoed relentlessly in her mind, an unanswerable torment. Josh had made it clear that he wanted her—had always wanted her. And if she was being honest, there was a time she wanted him to. But she was bound—to a pact she made with 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧, to a 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 she swore to her 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. That’s why she pushed Josh away. That’s why she convinced herself it was just a phase—that eventually, he’d move on and find someone who could love him the way he deserved. But Josh did the unthinkable. He 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 from her. Something irreplaceable. Something that was hers to give, not his to take. Her 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. The one thing she still had control over, and he ripped it away. Her chest tightened, her breath shallow as the truth settled in. If he cared about her and truly loved her, then why? How could he do this? Michaela believed she knew him and understood him to his very core. She would've laughed in their faces if someone had told her this would be their story. Josh was supposed to be different. She had felt an unexplainable pull toward him for as long as she could remember as if they were tethered by something more profound than words. But now, that connection, whatever it was, felt like a noose around her throat. She was drowning in confusion, betrayal, and the shattered remains of the boy she once trusted. And the worst part? She had more questions than answers.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞.

The silence in the apartment was suffocating, wrapping itself around Michaela like an unforgiving weight. A single tear traced a slow path down her porcelain cheek as she lay motionless, her body pressed into the mattress. “𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚?” 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. “𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚?” 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. “𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?” 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. “Michaela, please answer me.” The desperation in her sister’s voice barely registered. Words refused to form, and her limbs felt heavy and unmovable. The pain had won—it had consumed her, hollowed her out from the inside, leaving her paralyzed in a world that no longer felt like her own. But Stacy's voice persisted, growing closer, heels clicking against the floor in an urgent rhythm. “Michaela?” Silence. “Michaela, please talk to me. I’m sorry. I am. We thought we were helping by keeping everything from you. Please—just say something. Anything.”

A groan slipped past Michaela’s lips, barely audible, as she forced herself to move. The effort was excruciating—every bone in her body protested—but she slowly pushed herself upright, her back pressing against the headboard. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to focus, stripping away the fog of exhaustion and grief. Finally, she met Stacy’s gaze, exhaling a faint, shaky sigh. “…Stacy.” Her voice was hoarse, fragile, barely there. Stacy’s lips curled into a small, relieved smile. She nodded, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, placing a warm hand over Michaela’s ankle. “Take your time.” Michaela’s breath hitched. Time? Time was a cruel joke. She had been drowning in this pain alone for what felt like an eternity. Her sister had disappeared. Her friends had drifted away. No one stayed. And when they did, they only wanted pieces of her—the fragments of the happy, vibrant girl she once pretended to be. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝. They never acknowledged that the girl they missed had died a long time ago at the hands of the people who were supposed to love her. “I’m here for you,” Stacy murmured. “I’m all ears.” Michaela scoffed. A bitter, humorless sound. She yanked the coral duvet off her body and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The ground felt unsteady beneath her as she struggled to stand, her sister’s hands pressing lightly against her back for support. She hated it, hated that she needed it. A deep inhale. A slow exhale. Even breathing felt like a battle. Then, she turned to face Stacy, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with pain. “How do you think I feel?” She swallowed hard, willing herself to continue. “When I returned to California, I had no idea what had happened to me. I didn’t understand why I was in so much pain.” Her voice cracked, tears welling in her whiskey-hued eyes. “I was alone. Constantly. You and Mom never came looking for me. You never checked on me.” Her lips trembled. “I expected that from Mom. But you?” Stacy's face crumbled with guilt, but Michaela wasn’t done. “I was in a hospital bed, barely clinging to life. And you were nowhere to be found. Do you really think I want you here now?” The silence that followed was deafening. “Mich…” Stacy’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I was there.” She hesitated, her gaze flickering away, the weight of something unsaid pressing heavily between them. Michaela frowned. “When?” Stacy swallowed hard. “When you woke up in a pool of blood.” The words sent an eerie chill through Michaela’s body. Her head shook slowly, confusion etching itself onto her features. “B…B-Blood?” The word tumbled from her lips in a whisper, a fragile echo of understanding just out of reach. Stacy hesitated for a fraction of a second before finally speaking. “Michaela… you had a miscarriage.” The room spun, and Michaela’s breath hitched as her hands instinctively clutched at her stomach. The air felt thick, suffocating, pressing on her from every side. “No.” Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor before she could stop herself. “No. No. No. No. No.” The word spilled from her lips in broken sobs, rocking back and forth as grief overtook her, shattering whatever pieces of her were left. She didn’t even know. Stacy’s arms wrapped around her, holding her together as she fell apart, and for the first time in a long time, Michaela didn’t push her away. With Stacy’s arms wrapped tightly around her, the memory Michaela had buried—forgotten—began to unravel, creeping into her consciousness like a film she couldn’t pause. Scene by scene, it replayed in vivid detail, each moment hitting her like a crashing wave. Her body trembled as sobs wracked through her, the tears streaming down her face a silent testament to the unbearable pain resurfacing.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 ��𝐨𝐰 𝐈'𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

​•••

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Stacy’s frustrated voice tore through the room, snapping Michaela out of her thoughts. She blinked, shaking her head slightly before a teasing grin spread across her lips. “Did you lose again?” she asked, giggling at her older sister’s annoyance. Stacy let out an exaggerated groan, narrowing her eyes. “Look, this game is ridiculously hard, and I’m trying to keep up with my team.” Michaela chuckled, resting her chin on her palm. “It’s just a video game, dearest sister.” Lifting her gaze, she met Stacy’s glare and burst into laughter, only for a sharp pain to suddenly seize her side. A groan slipped past her lips as she clutched her abdomen. Stacy’s expression softened. “You alright, Mouse?” Michaela nodded hesitantly, pushing herself up from the couch. “Yeah… just got dizzy. There’s this awful pain in my side. I think I just need to sleep it off.” “Alright,” Stacy said, watching her closely. Michaela managed a small smile. “Enjoy your game.” For the past few days, the pain had come and gone in waves—sometimes dull, other times unbearable. Usually, she could just sleep through it, though medication wasn’t an option. Her mother had made that clear the first time Michaela even asked, convinced she’d spiral back into pill dependency. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Michaela was over the so-called tough love. It never helped. No one ever listened to what she needed.

The sudden clap of thunder jolted Michaela awake. Her eyelids snapped open as her breath hitched, her dark eyes darting around the dimly lit room. Inhaling deeply, she tried to steady the rapid beating of her heart. “Relax,” she whispered, shaky fingers through her tousled chocolate tresses. A sharp, unfamiliar pain twisted in her stomach, making her wince. Swallowing hard, she yanked the duvet away from her body, her brows furrowing as she shifted to turn on the bedside lamp. Her breath caught in her throat as the warm glow filled the room. Dark red. Everywhere, her heart pounded violently as panic settled in. “Stacy! Stacy! Stacy, where are you?!” Her voice was raw, frantic. Within seconds, Stacy barged into the room, eyes wide with alarm. “Mouse, what’s wrong?” Michaela’s trembling hand pointed toward the crimson-stained sheets. Stacy blinked before letting out a relieved sigh. “Seriously? I thought something terrible happened. You’re just on your period, Mouse. Go clean up, you big baby.” She rolled her eyes, a chuckle slipping from her lips. But Michaela didn’t laugh. She didn’t even move. That’s when Stacy looked at her and saw the fear pooling in her sister’s dark eyes. Her teasing expression quickly faded into one of concern. “Wait…”Stacy’s voice softened. She hesitated before asking, “When was your last period?” Michaela opened her mouth, but no words came. Her throat felt tight and dry. Instead, she only managed a slight shrug, her shoulders lifting in helpless uncertainty. A heavy silence filled the space between them. Then, in a hushed voice, Stacy spoke. “Come on, Mouse. Let’s get you up.” Michaela shook her head violently, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “What’s wrong with me, Stac?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Stacy knelt beside her, gently wiping away the tears staining Michaela’s porcelain skin. Taking a shaky breath, she finally uttered the words neither was ready for. “I… I think you’re having a miscarriage.” The room seemed to tilt. Michaela’s world, already fragile, suddenly cracked at the edges. *“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “No, that… that can’t be it. I’m a virgin. I’ve never—” Stacy only nodded, her arms wrapping around Michaela’s trembling frame, pulling her close. “We’ll figure it out, Mouse,” she whispered, holding her tightly. “I promise.”

••• 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝.

The truth had finally settled, no longer buried beneath fragmented memories. Michaela’s trauma had resurfaced in relentless waves—sometimes a dull ache, sometimes an unbearable agony.

But no matter how often she replayed it, one question remained unanswered. Why did he do this to her? 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 had shattered her in ways she never thought possible. Yet, despite the pain, she felt an inexplicable need to see him. She wasn’t sure if it was for closure, revenge, or something else entirely. The only thing different this time was that she sought him out. A quiet sigh left her lips as she glanced at the clock, her whiskey-colored eyes dark with unspoken emotions. "It’s time." With that, she rose to her feet, each step carrying her closer to 𝒉𝒊𝒎. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, an erratic rhythm fueled by rage, grief, and something she refused to name. Standing in front of him, she cleared her throat. The sound caught his attention, and his head lifted slowly. The moment his familiar smirk stretched across his lips, her stomach churned. "Emerald, you look divine. I’ve missed you." Michaela scoffed, rolling her eyes at his arrogance before exhaling sharply. "I see you haven’t changed. Same old Joshua Grant—pathetic." The moment he parted his lips to speak, she lifted a finger, silencing him before he could utter a word. "No. You’ve done all the talking. For once, you’re going to listen." His smirk widened, and his piercing blue eyes scanned her face as if this were some kind of game. He shrugged, feigning indifference. Michaela’s jaw tightened as she inhaled deeply, steadying herself before delivering the blow. "I was pregnant, Josh." The words hung in the air like a death sentence, his expression shifting ever so slightly. "I had a miscarriage," she continued, her voice unwavering. "And based on your little video, it was probably yours." The smirk that had been so effortlessly plastered on his face vanished. Michaela didn’t wait for a reaction. She reached into her bag, pulled out an ivory-covered envelope, and dropped it onto the table before him. Without another word, she pivoted on her heels, turning her back on him for good. "I’ll be seeing you, Joshua." And with that, she walked away, leaving him to sit in the wreckage of what he had done.

𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞.

[amasiuncula]

✥ .: 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 :. ✥

“𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫.”

How much can one person take before they completely snap? The question lingered in the air, taunting, relentless. It was a question Michaela Williams had been asking herself for far too long. She kept searching for an answer, trying to understand how her life had unraveled so entirely and how everything she touched seemed to crumble into dust. The things she should hate, she loved. The things that brought her pain also made her feel alive. Maybe she was born backward, never meant to fit into the world like others. Perhaps she had entered this life the wrong way, destined always to feel off, forever misaligned with happiness. Maybe she was never meant to experience joy, only the heavy weight of sorrow pressing against her ribs, sinking into her bones.

The pain had become her constant, a force she both feared and welcomed. It was hers—reliable, unyielding, intoxicating. It was her drug. But now? Now, she felt like she was 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. The harder she tried to swim to the surface, the stronger the tides pulled her down, dragging her further into the abyss. This wasn’t the kind of pain that sharpened her edges or made her stronger—this was the kind that hollowed her out, piece by piece until there was nothing left. It made her feel less. Less human. Less whole. Less alive. And if she wasn’t in pain, then what was left of her? Was she even alive? And if she was…Why did she feel like she was already rotting away?

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ��𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭.

"Mouse. Wake up, Mouse… I need you to wake up.” The voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was an urgency beneath it. My head felt heavy, my eyelids refusing to part as I clung to the last remnants of sleep. "Mouse, please…" The words came firmer this time, cutting through the fog in my mind. A low groan slipped past my lips as my head pulsed with a deep, throbbing migraine, pain blooming in my temples like an old wound reopening. With effort, I finally pried my chestnut eyes open. The world was a blur at first, the haze of exhaustion blurring the edges of my vision. Then, clarity hit, and I was still on the kitchen floor. The realization made my stomach turn. My back ached from the hard wooden tile, my limbs stiff, every movement slow and labored as I pushed myself upright. The sound of my joints cracking sent a shiver through me, my body screaming in protest. A muted sigh escaped as I pressed my palms against my exposed thighs, the lingering pain settling into my bones. Everything hurt; every step toward my room felt like walking through quicksand, my muscles protesting with each shaky movement. The exhaustion wrapped around me like a weighted blanket, threatening to pull me back down. I didn’t make it far before my body collapsed, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, hot and unrelenting, acid against my skin. "You can’t give up, Mouse." His voice echoed in my mind, wrapping around my thoughts like a lifeline. "We’re so close to the end, and it’s almost over. I promise you." The actual or imagined words pulled me back from the edge. I inhaled. Exhaled. Nodded a few times to no one but myself. Slowly, painfully, I pressed my palms into my thighs, pushing myself upward. This time, I wouldn't let the pain consume me. This time, I would let it lead me toward the truth—even if I wasn’t sure I wanted to find it. Standing outside my bedroom door, my heart hammered against my ribs, a silent warning. I pushed the door open, and I saw the chaos. Shattered glass from the broken mirror littered the floor, reflecting distorted pieces of myself back at me. Sheets were tossed carelessly, and clothes were piled in every direction. The entire room looked like a storm had torn through it—like I had tried to fight the demons in my mind, but they had won. I shook my head as my gaze landed on my iPhone. "It’s time, Mouse." The voice came again, steady, coaxing—the push I needed. Nodding, I reached for my phone, fingers trembling as I swiped it open. One name. One message. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧. He had been the first boy to truly see me, the first person to look beyond the cracks and find something beautiful. But love between us had never been meant for romance. We both learned that in time. Now, he was my best friend, and even he couldn’t pull me out of this hole. No one could. Because this trauma belonged to me alone, and I was the only one who could survive it.

My finger hovered over the message, hesitation clenching my chest like a vice. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, to stay in control. “You have to open it, Mouse.” The voice in my head was firm, unyielding. My eyelids fluttered shut briefly, a shuddering sigh slipping past my lips. When I finally reopened them, I pressed my finger to the screen, unlocking the message. "Mich, I know you want to know the truth. I know you need to remember. But this is a bad idea. This will hurt you more than it will help you. But I also know you'll hate me forever if I don’t find the footage. So here it is. I cleaned up the voices—you should be able to tell exactly who is who. And that psycho, Josh? He’s front and center. Please, Mich, don’t watch this alone. I love you, M&M." A small, sad smile ghosted across my lips. Shawn. Even now, he was trying to protect me from something I had already lived through. I took another breath. Pressed play. The screen flickered to life. Laughter. Low, rumbling at first. Then it grew—louder, sharper, unhinged. Then I saw him, and Josh came into focus, his smug grin stretching across the screen like a sick joke. The laughter around him swelled, filling the silence like a funeral bell, and then he spoke. "Today, on March 13, 2021, at approximately—” He paused, glancing at his watch before letting out another wicked chuckle as he continued, and what he said next made my stomach turn. "At approximately 11:30 PM, I finally take what’s mine. Isn’t that right, baby?" How he said it so casually and cruelly made my skin crawl. The camera zoomed in on me, which was when my body gave out. My legs buckled, and I crashed onto the floor, knees slamming against the cold tile. My mouth opened, but the sound that erupted from me didn’t feel like mine. A scream so raw, so gut-wrenching, it felt as if it had been buried inside me for years, waiting to claw its way out. The phone slipped from my fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud, but I could still hear it. His voice. His laughter. His claim. 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. My fingers tangled into my hair, yanking at the strands, my body rocking back and forth as tears poured down my face. My vision blurred. My chest ached. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want this. "Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!" A hand pressed against my shoulder blade. Steady. Familia,r and then, a voice. "I cannot, Mouse. It’s time." As the words settled in the air, the room around me shifted and faded. The memory, the one I had locked away for so long, came rushing back.

​•••

”No more drinking for you. I need to take you home, Mich.” Selina’s voice barely registered through the haze in my mind. Tuneful giggles spilled from my lips as I slurred through my response. “Selina, you worry too much. I’m fine.” I kissed my best friend's cheek charily, pushing myself up from the wooden chair with a wobble. My arms stretched outward as I spun slightly, the alcohol making the world tilt around me. ”Who’s ready to keep partying?” A deafening cheer erupted from the crowd. I laughed, letting their energy swallow me whole. Shot after shot. One pill, then two. A puff from a blunt handed to me by some random guy. Everything blurred, and I found myself leaning against the wall, my eyelids fluttering, the world tilting in slow, disorienting circles. “Mich, you alright?” His voice—deep, familiar—sent a dull throb through my head, and even in my current state, I knew the voice belonged to Tyler. I tried to nod, but even that felt like too much effort. “Here, take my arm. Let’s get you away from all this noise. You just need to sleep it off. Want me to call Selena?” I mumbled a response, my head lolling against his chest. His arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me as my legs buckled beneath me. I barely noticed as he guided me away from the pounding music and the overlapping voices, and then I was met with silence. The absence of noise was suffocating, yet somehow, it made everything feel lighter. I was vaguely aware of a plush pillow beneath my head. My body felt weightless, floating somewhere between consciousness and nothingness. “Thank you…” I murmured, nuzzling into the pillow, my head spinning, my limbs heavy. The room swayed around me, shifting slowly as I turned over. Sleep wouldn’t come.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

The words whispered through my mind were eerie and detached. Then, the laughter started. Soft at first. Then, louder and louder. A groan slipped from my lips, but the laughter didn’t stop—it only swelled, filling every corner of the room. And then, a voice I knew too well. “Today, on March 13, 2021, at approximately—“ My body tensed, even in my intoxicated haze. “At approximately 11:30 PM, I finally take what’s mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” The words sliced through me as my eyelids fluttered. My mind struggled to catch up, to piece together the distortion of reality and nightmare. Voices overlapped, bouncing around the room—unrecognizable, chaotic, wrong.

A shift. A hand on my right leg as the bed dipped under added weight. And my stomach dropped. “J–J–Josh… is that you?” The words slurred from my lips in a fragile whisper; my vision blurred as I forced my eyes open. And then, there he was. Josh. A slow, deliberate smirk that curled at the corner of his lips. He nudged my legs apart with his knee, his fingers grazing against my inner thigh as a shiver tore through me—not from pleasure, but from pure, unfiltered terror. “Michaela.” His voice was smooth, like silk wrapped around a blade. His lips glistened as he wetted them, his face hovering just inches from mine. Slowly, he leaned closer. “I told you when we first met that you would be mine, but you didn’t hear me.” His breath was warm against my skin, thick with the scent of alcohol and something darker. “So I’ll repeat it.” His fingers tightened around my thigh, and his knee pressed firmer between my legs. “You are mine, and tonight, I will make you feel what that means.”

𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐩. 𝐇𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

[amasiuncula]

“𝐖𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲. 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲. 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.”

It had been five months since Michaela tried to take her own life. It had been five months since she begged her best friend to strip away the brunette, erasing the girl she once was. It has been five months since she uncovered the full weight of her trauma. She should have been better by now. She should have been healing, but she wasn’t. If anything, it was worse. Nothing helped. No amount of time, distractions, or whispered reassurances could undo what had been done. The harder she tried to move forward, the more the past dragged her backward, its grip unrelenting. She was tired—exhausted. And worst of all, she didn’t know how to move on. So she did what she had become best at: 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝. She smiled when expected, laughed when necessary, and told everyone she was okay. 𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐞. A lie so well-crafted that everyone around her believed it. No one saw the cracks. No one noticed the screams hidden behind her silence. Not even Isabella. Why couldn’t they see? Or worse—did they see and just not care? The thought festered, sinking into the deepest parts of her. She could feel herself slipping but could do nothing to stop it. She had made a promise—to Selina and Shawn—that she wouldn’t harm herself again. She didn’t know how long to keep that promise, but she was trying. God, she was trying, but she knew—deep down, she knew that all it would take was one slight push. She’d go falling all over again.

A muted sigh slipped from my lips as I tightened my grip around the paintbrush, its bristles dragging smooth strokes of green across the canvas. With each movement, the picture before me started to come alive. My head bobbed slightly in approval, a small smile tugging at my nude lips. For once, I felt content, maybe even at peace. I was lost in my own version of Wonderland, where the apartment was quiet, and my demons weren’t clawing at my mind. I could breathe. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but I wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. Then—knocking. The sound snapped me out of my trance, my fingers twitching as my chestnut hues flickered toward the clock: 6:30 PM. 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞? The paintbrush slipped from my grasp, landing with a soft thud against the floor. I wiped my hands against my jeans as the knocking turned into a pounding, and my heart jumped. Thump. Thump. The unease settled in my stomach like lead, curling around my ribs as the pounding grew louder. “I’m coming! Give me a second!” The words shot from my mouth in a sharp tone, but my hands were already shaking. My heart was beating too fast, too loud. I inhaled. “Breathe.” I exhaled. “Breathe,” I repeated until I stood before the wooden door. My dainty fingers curled around the brass doorknob, turning it slowly. The door creaked open. No one. A wave of relief crashed over me, but confusion followed just as quickly. My chocolate orbs scanned the street, searching and waiting, but there was no sign of anyone. Just as I was about to close the door, my gaze dropped. A black box sat at my feet, my breath hitched. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬? Hesitation clawed at my chest as I bent down, lifting the small box into my palm. I turned on the balls of my bare feet, nudging the door shut behind me as I made my way to the kitchen. Something in my gut told me not to open or throw it away. Walk away. Keep painting. But curiosity got the best of me.

A soft sigh left my lips as I traced my index finger over the onyx-colored material. The top of the box lifted slightly, revealing the item inside, and then she felt pure terror. The moment my eyes registered what was in the box, a gasp tore from my throat, my fingers trembling as the box slipped from my grasp and clattered onto the counter, and my head shook violently. “No. No. No.” My breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. The walls around me blurred, the edges of my vision spinning as his voice invaded my mind, "Good girl. I just came here to tell you that you are still mine. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I should have never done that. But you are mine. Not Shawn’s. You are mine. The only way this will ever be over is if one of us dies, and don’t worry Emerald…I’ll always find you. Even in death." Each word sliced through me, stealing the air from my lungs. My feet paced frantically, my body stuck in a loop between fight and flight, my mind spiraling as my eyes flickered back toward the object—the one thing I never wanted to see again. The emerald necklace once had meant something beautiful: hope, love, a connection to something real. Now, it was tainted. He tainted everything he touched.

My feet halted, the strength in my legs giving way as I collapsed onto the cold marble tile. My knees hit the floor with a dull thud, but the pain barely registered—not compared to the storm raging inside me. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” Weak and broken words spilled from my lips, barely more than a whisper. Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and endless, blurring my vision as my trembling fingers reached forward. My hand brushed against the outline of the emerald necklace, my breath hitching at its familiar weight in my palm.

Josh, he had taken so much from me. My virginity. My sanity. My hope. My happiness. Every painful memory, every wound that refused to heal—he was tied to all of it. And now, by leaving this on my doorstep, he was sending me a message. He would never let me go, and the realization crushed me. My breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, my eyelids pressing shut as my head tilted back. My mouth parted, and from the depths of my throat, a scream ripped free—a sound so raw, so guttural that it echoed through the empty space around me. He had won. Josh had finally won. And I… I was nothing. 𝐔𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧. 𝐑𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝. Nothing I could do would fix me because he had ensured it. “Why did he do this to me?” The sobs came harder, my body shaking as I rocked back and forth, fingers digging into my chest, desperate to claw out the pain to make it stop. “Why me? Please, just make it stop.” But there was no escape. I had been a fool to believe things would improve because this was only the beginning—𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐛.

𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬; 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲? 𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞.

[amasiuncula]

Michaela Williams ♕ Kadupul Flower

Original Character based on Twitter

Username: Amasiuncula

One of the rarest and most beautiful flowers in this world, hides out in stygian forests and singly blooms at midnight. Once the dawn breaks, and the world threatens to shed light over the mysterious darkness, said flower perishes before anyone can get a glance of its actual marvelous and exposed pure white petals. She identified with it; Michaela was a Kadupul Flower.

Brought up in a wealthy household, surrounded by love and ostentatious gifts, Michaela had it all, or at least she did until Mr. Williams passed away, tragically. A surprised family found that Michaela seemed not to care so much about the eventuality, and so she requested to leave town to go to a boarding school in NY; her mother and sisters very concerned but understanding couldn't stop her from going away. Free and independent in a new place, all Michaela cared for was appearance: being a fun, beautiful, wealthy and utterly happy girl in front of the eyes of everyone else. That “cover” was just the perfect distraction to help her start spiraling down a dark path in the shadows, with no one being able to figure out that in the inside, she had a reason for her games and sinful experiences. Michaela was broken, but her pride silenced her, capturing her true self behind that so practiced façade. Michaela's practices took her to the very limit. One late night she ended up in the ER, her body convulsing, aching for medical attention. As a minor, once the doctor identified her they contacted Stacy, who was the one that alerted mother to bring her back home, to the Hills. With her family unable to explain what could have happened, will they ever discover what occurred in NY, or what is going on inside Michaela’s mind?

[amasiuncula]

✥ .: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 :. ✥

“𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞; 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞; 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞; 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩, 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭. 𝐔𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧.”

The past few years had been a relentless cycle of pain and self-loathing for Michaela Williams. She had been running on empty, stuck in overdrive ever since her father died—since she let him die alone. She hadn’t handled his death well. She hadn’t handled it at all. She did everything possible to drown out the grief—the unbearable ache of losing him, the guilt of never saying goodbye.

She never went to see him in the hospital, never held his hand in those final moments, and she would regret that for the rest of her life. But did that mean she deserved what Josh did to her? That was the question she couldn’t answer. Or maybe, deep down, she already had. Perhaps this was her punishment—for being selfish when her family needed her most. Maybe this was the universe 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬, forcing her to pay for the choice she made. She wasn’t sure; she only knew that no matter how many times she tried to push forward, tried to heal, tried to find 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, she was always pulled back—𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 of who she was. A lost girl whose rape had been plastered across the internet for the world to see. There was no escape. No future waiting for her on the other side of this pain. And finally, she knew what she had to do. There was only one way to end this. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝; 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝.

The once clear water had turned a deep crimson, swirling around her like ink spreading through parchment. Her chocolate tresses fanned out, weightless, as she sank deeper and deeper into the abyss. Michaela was fading away. Suspended between life and death, caught in the fragile space where neither entirely existed, she hovered in limbo—the darkness calling to her, a siren song whispering promises of peace. She was slipping, losing herself in the quiet pull of nothingness, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t fight it. She was tired—so damn tired—of simply existing. She had nothing left to keep her here. The pain was too much, and the weight of it was unbearable. She had searched for light at the end of the tunnel, but all she ever found was more darkness—𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧.

𝙅𝙤𝙨𝙝, 𝙑𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧, 𝙏𝙮𝙡𝙚𝙧, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧—𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩, 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙡𝙚.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙖 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.

Michaela had spent years trying to hold herself together, but her pieces had shattered beyond repair. And with every moment, those broken fragments dug deeper into her, piercing her from the inside out until all that remained was the blood pooling around her. Her eyelids fluttered. Her body grew heavier. And the lyrics drifted through the void, wrapping around her like a farewell lullaby. “𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢… 𝑂𝘩, 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒?” 𝑆𝑜, 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠… 𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛, 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜, ‘𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼’𝑚 𝑖𝑛 ��𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝑆𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦? 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑢𝑝? 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑒… 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩?” The words blurred into the silence, fading just as she was, and in that final moment, Michaela let go.

•••

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐮𝐥𝐥, 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧.

"Michaela, my sweet emerald." The voice slithered through the darkness, wrapping around her like a cold embrace. Her eyelids fluttered open, and the harsh light from the room made her wince. A groan escaped her lips. Pain shot down her spine, radiating from the tight binds around her wrists. "Shawn…?" Her voice was weak, laced with confusion. Her vision blurred, the room's edges swimming until the figure before her came into focus. And when it did, her heart slammed against her ribs. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧. A slow smirk curled onto his lips as he tilted his head, the amusement in his eyes making her stomach churn. "Tsk." He exhaled, shaking his head in disappointment. "That name again?" A finger trailed along her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Michaela flinched, her breath hitching in her throat. "Breathe," he murmured, voice deceptively soft. "If you don’t breathe, this will only worsen for you." Her body trembled. She wanted to scream, needed to scream. But nothing came out. The smirk widened. "Good girl." He leaned in, his breath fanning against her skin, his presence suffocating. "I came to remind you that you are still mine. Not Shawn’s." His voice was laced with something sinister, something final. "I’m sorry for what I did to you—I should have never hurt you. But you are mine, Michaela. And the only way this ends is if one of us dies." Her pulse pounded in her ears, every nerve in her body screaming for her to run, to fight, but she was frozen. He chuckled, brushing his lips against hers in a mockery of a kiss. "Don’t worry, Emerald. I’ll always find you. Even in death." Her breath shuddered, and Her vision blurred once more. The darkness crept in from the corners of her mind, pulling her under. The last thing she saw was the flicker of his smirk before the world faded to black.

"Is anyone here for Michaela Alexandra Williams?" Shawn and Selina shot to their feet, their heads snapping toward the doctor. Shawn inhaled deeply, steadying himself. "Yes, we’re here. And before you ask, we’re not family. Her mother’s at work, and her sister isn’t answering." He hesitated. "I’m Shawn, her ex—" The words faltered. Selina placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, stepping forward. "I’m her roommate. I’m the one who found her." The doctor nodded, his gaze softening. "Normally, we wouldn’t allow this, but I’ll make an exception under the circumstances." His voice was calm yet firm. "Michaela attempted to take her own life. If she hadn’t been rushed here when she was, she wouldn’t have made it.” Shawn and Selina exchanged a look, their relief mixed with something heavier. 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭. 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫. The doctor exhaled, placing a reassuring hand on Shawn’s shoulder. "She’s stable for now, but she needs rest. You can see her in a couple of hours.” As he walked away, the weight of his words settled between them. Neither was ready to lose her, but the harsh reality was undeniable. Michaela didn’t want to live, and the only person who could save her now—was herself.

“𝐈'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝; 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝—𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞; 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝.”

Michaela blinked a few times, her reflection staring back at her—a version of herself she no longer recognized. “Are you sure about this?” Tori’s voice was soft but filled with understanding. Michaela turned to her best friend, and dark eyes met her. Then, she nodded—once, twice, thrice- as if solidifying her decision. “Yes, Tori. I don’t want to be a brunette anymore.” Her voice didn’t waver. “I can’t be his sweet emerald. I can’t let him win.” Tori smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Michaela’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.” Michaela exhaled, steadying herself. This was the first step; she had to shed the girl he knew—the one he controlled, broke, haunted. She had to become someone he would never see coming. And it started with her hair. The dark strands he once loved? They were the first to go. He would never own another piece of her again.

[amasiuncula]

✥ .: 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 :. ✥

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──

“When shit doesn't go your way you need me to fix it and like me, I did but I ran out of every reason.

Now suddenly you're asking for it back. Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve?

Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had. But I don't really care how bad it hurts, when you broke me first.”

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭.”

Michaela thought she wanted the truth—that she could finally move on once she uncovered what happened. But she was wrong. The truth wasn’t liberating. It wasn’t healing. It was earth-shattering. She couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫? How had their story—one she once thought had meaning—come to this? She had trusted him. She had thought he cared about her and wanted the best for her. But she had been wrong. 𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. He had no idea what love was because what he did to her wasn’t love. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. And yet, he did the unforgivable. He took something from her—a piece of her she could never get back. Since returning to California, Michaela had been desperate to find herself again, clinging to the hope that this was all in her head—that she’d wake up and it would all be a cruel, distorted nightmare. But it wasn’t. And the worst part? It had been him all along. The person she never thought capable. The one she never would have suspected. It wasn’t her fault. It never was. And nothing Josh could say—no apology, excuse, or explanation—would make it right. She couldn’t get over this. The sinking feeling in her chest refused to fade. It weighed her down, anchored her to the pain, no matter how hard she tried to drown it out—with self-harm, alcohol, and drugs. Nothing worked. Nothing made it go away. And the cruelest part? The only person who could fix this… was the one who broke her in the first place.

The slow water drip echoed in the silence, my eyelids fluttering as I leaned back against the tub's edge. My brown eyes traced the dimly lit bathroom, unfocused, lost somewhere between the past and present—caught in the space where thoughts should be. The lukewarm water surrounded me, and my body spread out beneath the surface, weightless. My breath was steady and controlled, but I felt anything but inside. The banging, a sharp, insistent knock, made my heart jump, my pulse racing in my throat. Louder. Faster. The fear crept in before I even realized what was happening. My gaze snapped toward the door, my chest tightening. “Michaela? Michaela, are you almost done? I need help with my outfit.” Selina’s voice pulled me back, but I couldn't answer. My lips parted, but the words stayed lodged in my throat. My vision blurred, the air shifting around me.

Then, I was somewhere else. A flash. “Have you always worn that?” I blinked rapidly, my body rigid as the room distorted, my mind caught in the sudden shift. Selina was standing before me, talking, but I couldn’t make out the words. They felt foreign, distant—like a conversation I had heard before but couldn't place. And then she was gone. I let out a slow breath, my shoulders lifting in a slight, detached shrug. Slowly, my body slipped deeper into the water, my limbs becoming heavier. The blinking lights above flickered in and out of focus. The question circled in my mind, spinning like a carousel I couldn't stop. "Have you always worn that necklace?” My head tilted slightly as the words echoed, rattling something profound inside my chest. Then, another shift. “Seriously, I feel like something is missing with this outfit. What do you think?” Selina stood in the bathroom doorway, her voice breaking through the haze. My eyes scanned her, from the top of her head down to her heels. “Are you not going to wear any accessories?” Selina turned on the balls of her feet, glancing at herself in the mirror before looking back at me. “You’re so right! Do you still have that gold necklace? It has—“The emerald one.” Selina’s eyes brightened as she nodded, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor ringing in my ears. I barely noticed as my body sank lower into the water. Then, another memory hit me—this time, crystal clear. "I don’t remember ever seeing you in this." His voice. Deep, smooth—too close. His fingers, rough and uninvited, trailed over the delicate chain around my neck. His touch sent a shiver down my spine as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “The emerald in the necklace brings out the color in your eyes. It makes you look beautiful. I froze, and the bathroom snapped back into focus, my mind crashing into reality like a tidal wave. My breath hitched. My hands shook. Slowly, my trembling fingers reached for my throat, brushing against the exposed skin where the necklace should have been. "No… No, no, no…” It couldn’t be accurate, but it was. The truth ripped through me, jagged and unforgiving. The pounding of my heart grew unbearable, my fingers clenching at my neck as if I could rip the memory from my skin. The blade in my other hand felt cold against my palm, and without thinking, I lowered it—and pressed it against my wrist; I dragged it across as a sharp sting. A deep, crimson trail spilled into the water, blooming outward like ink on paper. My head throbbed, my body weight growing heavier as I sank deeper, the water turning a murky shade of red. My eyelids fluttered shut, my lips parting as a whisper escaped into the air, barely audible over the sound of my heartbeat slowing. “I'm sorry, Daddy. This is all my fault.” The words lingered, hanging over me like a final confession. Because now, I knew the truth. That night was the beginning and the end of me, and the more I remembered, the more I wanted to disappear.

“Okay, bitch, I couldn’t find the neck—” Selina’s words cut off mid-sentence, her breath hitched and her eyes went wide. “No.” The world around her blurred as she took in the sight before her—Michaela, motionless, sinking into crimson-stained water. “Michaela, no..” Selina’s voice cracked as she dropped to her knees, tears already spilling down her face. Her hands trembled as she reached out, shaking her head in disbelief. “You promised…” A sob tore through her. “Not again—not again…”

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞.

[amasiuncula]

⋆ part seven - fire and desire iii ⋆

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“Nothing ever seems to come out right. But it’s hard to remember dreams, and I know that you won’t tell everything. But you say I'm in your memory and that’s fine. Fuck, I think I know his name now, I hope that I don’t go insane now; if so, I'll have to blow his brains out. It don’t matter what I'm doing, I keep thinking about you and I. ”

⋆ PART SEVEN - FIRE AND DESIRE III ⋆

Michaela Williams was the only thing on my mind; I couldn’t focus on school, baseball and definitely couldn’t get back into writing my novel. All I could think about her and how she and I were meant to be but Michaela couldn’t see that or she just didn’t want to see it. Couldn’t she tell how much I love her? I know that she heard about the Dallas situation, did that scare her? I couldn’t help myself, Dallas knew the rules and he went for it anyway, I was only trying to protect her. Couldn’t she see that? I didn’t care about anything or anyone as much as I cared about her. She was everything to me but I was nothing to her and the more I tried to show her how much I loved her or needed her, the more she pulled away from me. I’ve never had this happen to me before, women always did what I wanted them to do but Michaela was different. The kind of difference that was driving me insane and I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. Was she worth it? I wasn’t sure that she was worth it anymore. But on the other hand, I knew that my feelings for her could only grow deeper and I was trying my hardest to shake them off but they always came back. Michaela Williams was in my bloodstream and I couldn’t get her out nor did I want to. Not in this life.

The sound of his boot clad feet hitting the ground was the only sound in the empty apartment; his feet moved from one side of the room to another side of the room. His bawdy digits held the bottle in his hand, taking a sip from time to time and his fingers combed through his short blonde locks. His head was shaking as he continued to pace, mumbled under his breath as the door to his apartment crept open to reveal Tyler. He caught sight of his friend's expression momentarily before he took another sip of the bourbon. “Josh, what the fuck? Where have you been man?” Josh’s shoulders lifted upward in a nonchalant shrug. No words escaped his mouth. “Man, you need to let this go.” Dry laughter escaped Josh’s lips as he placed the now empty bottle on the countertop, shifting his eyes onto his friend. The space between them was no longer visible as he placed his palms against Tyler’s shoulder blades. “You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about. That’s my girl and I will never let her go.” Tyler’s head shook, his hand waves across his face due to the alcohol burning his nose. “Josh, you are drunk. You aren’t thinking straight.” Josh’s laughter only grew louder as he removed his palms from Tyler’s frame. “Actually, I think you are wrong. Everything is crystal clear. It’s time for me to get my girl.” Smirk curled on to Josh’s lips as his head nodded a few times. “Josh, I am telling you this because I am your friend and no one else seems to want to be honest with you but..but Michaela does not want you, man. She has a boyfriend so just let it go.” Josh paused momentarily, shaking his head as he swiftly pulled his jacket on, he shifted his attention and Tyler with a smirk on his lips. “I’m going to prove you wrong, that’s my girl.”

Josh had been standing outside her dorm room for a few minutes but it felt longer. I don’t understand why I am so nervous, I had been here before but this was different. I was sure that Michaela knew how I felt for her, but I never directly said it to her. I just assumed she knew and I hoped that she would come around but it didn’t look like she would so this was my opportunity. My knuckles pressed against the wooden door, knocking on it slightly. The sound was loud enough for her to hear but still low enough so no one else would come out. The door crept open, his lips held a smile and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Michaela was wearing an oversized t-shirt, her hair was tossed in a high ponytail. She looked beautiful, but she always looked beautiful. “What are you doing here, Josh?” Her question caught him off guard, confusion swept his feature as Michaela leant against the wooden door.

I lifted my shoulders upward in a slight shrug. “I wanted to see you.” That’s the only words that I could muster, Michaela nodded her head a few times as she took a step aside which allowed me entrance into her dorm room, her frame rested against the door momentarily before she made her way into the kitchen and placed herself onto the wooden stool. “Josh. . .” The sound of my name on her lips caused the speed of my heart to pick up, blue eyes landed on her emerald orbs. “What do you want from me?” My eyelids blinked a few times as I sat across from her, my palms pressed against her exposed knees. “I just want you, Michaela.” The apples of her cheeks turned a slight red shade as she shook her head, her feet pressed against the tile as she created some distance between us. “Josh, you are not going to get in my head. I’ve heard all about you, you say all this sweet stuff and in reality all you want is to fuck me. I’m sure that you’ve been fine these past few weeks. Am I right?” Michaela’s words caused short laughter to emit from my lips, Michaela’s green eyes rolled in their orbits and my head shook. “You are wrong, completely and utterly wrong because being without you is ripping me to shreds and unlike you, I can’t just

pretend that I don’t feel anything because I feel everything for you. Michaela, I just want you.” Michaela’s green orbs scanned my features, she shook her head and mumbled something under her breathe and before I could say another word, her lips pressed against mines and my fingers danced against the fabric of her shirt; brushing against her skin as I lifted her upward and placed her own the countertop. Our lips moved together in a feverish kiss, her body pressed against my chest as she wrapped her arms around my neck and the softest of moans uttered from her lips which was mixed in with my groans. “What the fuck?” The voice of an unfamiliar person caught me off guard as my eyelids fluttered open and my attention was pulled from Michaela onto him. “Who the hell are you?” My arms wrapped around her waist as my eyes stayed on him. “I’m Shawn, Michaela’s boyfriend. What the fuck, Michaela?” In a blink of an eye, Michaela slipped out of my arms. “Josh, I'm sorry you have to go. Please..” My head shook at her words. “Are you serious right now? I know that you are fucking with me.” My eyes were still on her, shock was evident on my features. “You heard her, get the fuck out or I'll make you!” Michaela’s head shook, her eyes were filled with sorrow and a dry laughter escaped my mouth. “I’m out of here, don’t get comfortable Shawn, she’s our girl not yours.”

And in that moment, I knew that Michaela felt the same thing for me and it was real. I was going to get what I wanted no matter what. No one could keep us apart and I guess that’s how we became a tragedy. But, she was mine and I was hers..even if it was tragic.

"𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕟𝕕, 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘."

[amasiuncula]

⋆ PART SIX - FIRE AND DESIRE II ⋆

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“So sick from all of the scars they left searching for more than this life can give at night when you feel all alone, I'll tell you about tomorrow.”

Most people think that what I did was horrible and that there is something wrong with me but I believe that it was normal behavior, I wanted something so I took it. I was tired of waiting around for her to realize how perfect we are together because truth be told, I don’t think that she would ever want me. Not in this life but maybe in the next life or that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m hoping that she can forgive me and we can get past this. All relationships have a rough path, right? This just happens to be ours. Michaela will forgive me, I just have to be patient. The only way I’d let her go would have to include me dying and even in death, I would find a way to make her mine. I’m sure you are reading this and thinking that I'm completely obsessed with her, I call it love. I was completely in love with her and I'd do anything to make sure she knew that because looking into her eyes made me believe that she did love me, she does love me. I just have to prove to her that what we have is real and that no matter what happened, I would protect her. Michaela was mine, even if she didn’t know it. Did she forget what I did for her? How could she forget?

Josh’s mind was on a constant loop, the loop that always landed on her. From her smile, to her laugh and the innocence in her green eyes. Josh needed to snap out of it, because she had a boyfriend. That’s what he told himself. The repeated knocks on his door caused him to lift his head forward as his finger combed through his blonde hair, shaking his head to regain himself. “It’s open, come in.” His blue pools fixated on the door as it slowly crept open, his eyes widened as he noticed the tears in her eyes. “Man, sorry I would’ve used the spare but I had to help her.” Tyler’s words circulated in his head as he stood upward, his eyes shifted from Tyler back onto Michaela. “What the hell happened, why are you crying?” Neither one of them spoke which only made the anger in him boil over, normally he couldn’t get Tyler to shut up and now that he actually wanted him to speak--he was mute.

“Tyler, I am not going to ask you, again.” Tyler nodded his head. “Look, I need you to calm down.” Tyler replied as he pulled Michaela to the couch, she wiped away the tears that managed to escape before covering her face with her palms. “Ty, you are my friend but unless you want me to lose it on you then you will start talking.” His azure eyes never drifted from Michaela, Tyler knew better than to push it-especially when it came to Michaela. “Fine. I know that I can’t tell you not to do anything drastic because you probably will..” Tyler paused, nodding his head a few times. “It was Dallas, he invited us to the house.” Josh lifted his hand upward to cut Tyler off, Josh didn’t hear another word. “Take care of her, I'll be back.” The room was silent, Tyler was aware of the relationship between Dallas and Josh so he didn’t even try to stop him.

The scene before him was one that was rather pitiful, even for Josh Grant. His blue eyes shifted from one side of the room to the other, his back rested against the crimson wall, inhaling a deep breath as he clutched tighter onto the crystal glass which was filled with the auburn liquid and his head rattled as he inhaled once more. The man sitting in the darkest part of the room couldn’t believe that he let Michaela get close to his brother because now she was crying in his apartment due to Dalla’s actions. His brother. His fucking brother. Tilting the glass backward, the liquid slowly glides down the depths of his throat which causes a warmth to enclose his muscular frame.

“Don’t you look delicious.” He scanned her features prior to a dry chuckle resonating from his throat.

“Don’t waste my time, sweet cheeks. Move along. I have more important things to do and you aren’t on the menu.” He said in a stern voice, shifting his gaze towards the man that had stumbled across the dance floor.

“You might be hot but you’re a first-class asshole.” He stands to his full statuesque length once more in the same compelling manner he did everything, his head shook briefly as his digits buckled the first button on his suit. His azure eyes stayed fixated on the person he had been watching all night, slipping into the alley way; he rested against the concrete wall.

“Brother, is this what we are doing now?” The sheer shook in his Brother’s face caused laughter to resonate from Josh’s throat, his head rattling with each step he took forward.

“I know that you always want what you can’t have but I told you not to.” He pauses momentarily to avert his gaze towards the flaxen female prior to casting a wink in her direction which only causes her to giggle.

“Be a doll and leave, you can get him back after I’m done, and he’ll pay you double.” The blonde nodded her head a few times before she shuffled back inside.

“Where were we? Oh, yes.” He took one step forward, he tilted his head slightly and inhaled a deep breath.

“What happened to you, brother? I used to look up to you and now. Now, I am utterly disgusted. You couldn’t just let this one go. You just had to go after her, right? You just never learn and now I see you here trying to get your dick wet with some stripper. Michaela wasn’t enough, aye?”

Dallas stepped closer to Josh, laughing at his younger brother as he pressed his palms against his chest to push Josh backward. “Boy, who do you think you are talking to? Show some respect. If it wasn’t for me then you wouldn’t be this man right now. Don’t push me, Josh.”

Respect? Dallas had some nerve thinking that he deserved any type of respect. Josh had given his brother all his ex’s, they shared them like toys and majority of the time Josh didn’t care for them but Michaela, Michaela was his and Dallas knew this. But that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part was the fact that Michaela looked defeated, the print on her face was evidently done by Dallas. Dallas Grant was nothing but a piece of shit.

Taking a step backward, laughter emitted from the depths of his throat. His head was shaking as the laughter only grew louder and louder. His vision languidly became blurry, the anger that he held in his chest starting to swallow him whole as he took a few steps forward; hovering over his brother as his left arm lifted upward, clutching his fist and crashing it against the cheek of his brother’s which causes him to stumble backward. Laughing as he continued to send his fist downward; punch after punch. Josh released his anger against his brother’s face, hovering over him as his place his designer shoes against his brother’s ear; pressing his weight down prior to leaning downward, his cobalt hues narrowed into slits.

“Dallas, respect is earned, and I don’t respect you. Not one bit. This was the last straw, if you come near me or Michaela again; I'll kill you myself. Are we clear?” Josh stood to his full stature, bawdy fingers smoothing the wrinkles in his dark suit as he combed his digits through his short blonde locks.

“Stay out of my way, Dallas.”

She didn’t remember that I was always at her side. Did she see Dallas when she looked at me?

[amasiuncula]

⋆ PART FIVE - FIRE AND DESIRE I ⋆

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“I know we're not in love; love is vivid. No we're not in love, you fall right in it for a week, a month or maybe just a minute or a lifetime. What's the difference? Big bang or collision, love is blind we had a vision though but now we are dead roses.”

Every traumatic event in your life was once filled with good intentions, maybe even a dash of hope. Maybe you thought you could shake the shackles that your family put you in--that society put you in. Maybe you pictured how your life would go, have dreams and goals. You probably even thought that you could make it big, find the love of your life and live happily ever after? But does happily ever after really exist? I think it doesn’t because if it did then maybe I could’ve got the girl, maybe I wouldn’t have hurt her in the way that I did. Maybe I could’ve seen that she was already broken but instead I just added to the list, made her feel alone and the worst part is that I liked it, I loved the moans that she uttered. Could it be considered rape if she made those sounds? Sounds that I couldn’t get out of my head. Why couldn’t she just want me? If she would’ve just admitted that she felt the same for me then maybe we could’ve had a happily ever after but instead we will be marked as a tragedy and nothing I do now will change how she feels about me, she will never want me and it’s my own fault. I should’ve just seen the signs but I didn’t.

Who am I? The name is Joshua Grant, most people call me Josh and I’m completely in love with Michaela Williams or is it more of an obsession? Either way she’s gotten into my bloodstreams, her scent alone brings me to my knees and she tastes incredible. I can never get enough of her, even when I try and trust me I have tried. You’ve probably heard Michaela’s side and I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me now, she probably painted me as a monster. I wasn’t always this way, I just couldn’t stop thinking about her and how much I needed her--let me take you to how it started.

ᴛɪᴄᴋᴇᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴏᴡɴꜰᴀʟʟ—ᴊᴏꜱʜ'ꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴀ ᴠɪᴇᴡ

“You know you can let go of my hand now, right?” She smirked as her fingers slipped away from his grip. “I’m sorry, but the offer still stands. Do you need help?” Josh usually didn’t find himself so lost in someone’s presence before but she was different and he wanted to be near her, no he needed to be near her. “No, i’m just waiting for my best friend, she should be here in a bit. What’s your name?” Her answer left a sour taste in his mouth but he didn’t want to show her that side of him. “Joshua, but you can call me Josh.” He mirrored her smile, the two were still inches apart, he towered over her. “Josh, huh? Definitely didn’t peg you for a Josh but my name is Michaela and most people call me Mich.” The tone she uttered his name caused him to take another step, his boots hitting against the box as he chuckled. “Michaela, I like that. Josh is a common name but your name is different, I like different.” The apples of her cheeks turned a light shade of pink but before she could utter another line he felt a dainty palm rest against his leather jacket. “She has a boyfriend.” Michaela shifted her green eyes to the girl behind him, nodding her head as she scooped the box in her arms. “Yes, I have a boyfriend.” She stood upward as the box was pressed against her chest.

“It was nice to meet you, let’s go, Jess.” Before Josh could speak, the other brunette stood besides Michaela and with a couple blinks of his eyelids she was gone.

Josh didn’t know what came over him but he had to know her, he needed to know her.

“Michaela” He stated, his tongue wetting his lips as he turned on the balls of his boots. “You will be mine.”

“𝘐𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘢."

[amasiuncula]

⋆ PART FOUR - EMPTY SPACE ⋆

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“You don’t know how fragile she is until you wake up one day and there are pieces on the floor and you don’t know if it’s glass or her words because she hides her heart well because she doesn’t even know how broken she is.”

Michaela had been going through the motions the past couple of weeks, she didn’t feel anything and when she did feel—it was a consuming feeling that she couldn't deal with and the more she tried to move on from the situation, the harder it became. The night of the incident still wasn’t clear to her and the more she tried to remember, the anger she got. Why couldn’t she remember? Why did this happen to her? Was this what she deserved for not saying goodbye to her father? Michaela was unsure but those were the questions that lingered in her head, she felt as if she couldn’t do anything—she felt powerless and empty. She had tried to fill the space with her friends and family but they could see the emptiness in her mossy hues, she hadn’t been keeping up with her hygiene; her hair was greasy, and she had lost a significant amount of weight. Michaela no longer looked like herself, she felt as if she was slipping away. The more she tried to grasp at her life, the further she felt it slip away—reminded her of quicksand.

Michaela just needed answers, the footage that she found of the rape wasn’t helpful and Jessikah wasn’t there at the time so she had no answers for her. Michaela tried to put a face to the voices but came up empty every time. Was her mind blocking out the trauma? It had to be, because she remembered everything else but that night. Michaela was tired of feeling this way, she was tired of this pain. She was tired of the anger, the emptiness was clawing at her—pulling her deeper into her depression.

Crushing sentiments swallowed her whole. Her digits twitched with the need to destroy, to express the hurricane raging inside in a destructive manner. She lifted her petite figure from the comfortable surface of her mattress as moisture formed on the rim of her mossy hues, gliding along her porcelain cheeks. The destruction started small as her agile extremities clutched to her duvet, yanking free the cozy material from her mattress. She moved onto shoving all her pillows off until her floor was covered in the plush objects. The sound of laughter echoing in her ears and that suffocating sound took hold of her once more. Her matte petals sundered for a shriek to release from her vocal cords. Extending her delicate feet as she sauntered to the bedside table she shoved off the various items until the surface was clean. Moving onto her dresser she began to yank out the drawers with rough force, pulling free the wooden confinements and dumping the contents onto her floor; various fabrics spread across the cream carpet. Her chest heaved with each breath she drew in as crystal tears blinded her vision and she dropped to the floor, tugging her knees to her torso to fold into herself as liquid slithered along her cheeks. Red trails left behind as she cried into her knees. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you do this to me? Please take it back, please…” The words that she spoke were uttered in a hush tone, the tears still cascading down her cheeks and her face was buried into her knees. Michaela could no longer be strong, she was breaking and nothing she did could change her feelings.

“It’s going to be alright, Pomegranate.” His soft words caused her head to lift upward, wiping away the salty droplets that managed to escape the rim of her eyes; scanning the chaotic room, she combed her lengthy digits through her curly tresses.

“Who are you? Did my dad send you?” Her tone was soft, her eyelids blinked a few times as she shifted her gaze. The voice of a man that she couldn’t see, was she hearing things? The trauma was clearly causing her to fall deeper down the rabbit hole.

“I’m sorry, Pomegranate, it wasn’t your father that sent me…” He paused momentarily, he cleared his throat as his words drifted outward. “I just care about your safety, Michaela and want to make sure that you find the missing pieces regarding that night.” The way he said her name caused a chill to run down her back, her heartbeat picked up as she scanned the room, placing her palms against the wooden surface as she pushed herself upward; her balance wobbled slightly as she pressed her palm to the ivory wall. Muted sigh escaped her throat.

“Why can’t I see you?” As the words tumbled out of her mouth she felt a surge of pain in her chest which caused her to rest her palm against her chest, whimpering as the pain languidly disappeared. The mystery man was gone, she couldn’t see him but she knew that he wasn’t here--it was odd but she couldn’t feel his presence anymore.

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"ɪ ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇꜱ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴇ."

Turning her head to the sky as eyelids flutter beneath the brilliant light glowing through the parted clouds that seemed to glare down at her in unyielding disapproval; her fingers outstretched over the cold rigid ground holding her frame. Michaela wasn’t fond of the rain and she truly hated thunder but she couldn’t help herself, she needed to get out of that room and figure out what was happening to her. Darken tresses fall down her shoulders as she shifts her weight onto her feet and folds her arms over her chest; clenching hazel eyes shut when the vision of a pair of blue eyes came through her memory in swift flashes. The blue eyes had been haunting her for the last couple of nights, all she saw were his eyes and she knew that they didn’t belong to her father. Was this the missing piece that she needed.. Her palms gilded against her stomach which sent a shiver to run down her back. The light that was once illuminating from the sun had shifted, rain slowly dropping downward which was surprisingly fitting for this moment. Michaela’s head dropped as tears slowly slid down her porcelain cheeks, the pair of blue eyes playing in her mind.

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[FLASHBACK]

“Michaela, Michaela, Michaela!” The sound of her name caused the brunette to twirl on the balls of her shoes, her dark locks causing a veil over her mossy hues as she tugged it behind her ear and caught a glimpse of the male, his lips curled into a smirk as he inhaled and exhaled; trying to catch his breath as he shook his head lightly.

“For a petite girl, you walk pretty fast. I’ve been calling your name for what felt like hours.” He chuckled lowly, taking a step forward as his cobalt hues locked with hers.

Michaela shook her head as she lifted her shoulders upward in a nonchalant shrug and she pressed her books against her chest. “You know the deal, Josh. You have to keep up or you’ll get lost in the crowd.” Laughter emitted from her throat as she turned on the balls of her heels. “Come on, we have to meet Jessikah and the guys, I am starving.”

He chuckled, he wrapped his arm around her neck as he pulled her close to him. “One of these days i’ll be able to keep up with you and your boyfriend back home will have to just deal with losing you, M.”

Pressing the books closer to her chest, her hues rolled in their orbits as she shook her head. Tilting her head slightly, her emerald irises landing on his features. “You say this all the time, J. We both know that I'm not leaving him but only time will tell.”

Smirk curled upon her lips as he looked down at her, his lips hovered over hers as he placed a chaste kiss against her forehead. “Time will tell, M.”

Inhaling his scent as his words mumbled against her forehead before he pulled away, she just chuckled to herself as the last line uttered “Don’t go aiming for the moon, blue eyes.”

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[END OF FLASHBACK]

Michaela allowed the rain to fall around her, her body shivering as her bare feet pressed against the ground, her eyelids clung shut. The pain caused her to lean forward as her fingers coaxed with the silver railing, her head dropping as the blue eyes that haunted her memories came to light.

Michaela couldn’t believe this, but why would he do this? Why would he hurt her in this way?

Her knees buckled as the balance that she once had started to slip away, her physique languidly dropped to the ground as her fingers still held onto the railing and the rain from the sky only falling onto her at a faster rate.

“Josh, why..?” The pain in her voice was evident, one of the missing pieces from that night had fallen into her lap. Michaela knew who the blue eyes belonged to but it didn’t make her feel better, it made her feel worse.

She felt a palm pressed against her shoulder blade, her hues still shut but his presence made her heart beat at a calmer rate. “Pomegranate, be patient, everything will play out and you shall have the answers you are seeking.”

"ꜱʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴏʏᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ, ꜱʜᴇ ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ. ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱʜ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ."

[amasiuncula]

⋆ PART THREE - MOONDUST ⋆

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“I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice to bury my love, in the moondust. Nothing can breath, in space and colder than, the darkest sea. I have dreams about the days, driving through your sunset breeze but the first thing I will do is bury my love for you.”

Michaela Williams has had a tragic life, she had given her heart to the world and each time that she had, she had felt a slight crack. A crack that was swallowing her whole, with each crack that she felt on her heart—the more the light in her eyes disappeared. She had spent her younger years trying to find herself that she ended up losing herself. But did she even truly know who she was? Probably not, she had been stuck in this trance that she couldn’t even look at herself in the mirror without feeling this surge of hatred for the girl staring back at her.

She didn’t hate the world, she hated herself.

She hated everything about herself.

She hated the way she smiled, she hated the sound of her own voice and most of all she hated how broken she was.

The girl that was once filled with love and light had been transformed into someone she didn’t even recognize anymore.

The cracks in her heart were piercing her chest. Slicing her deep as she found herself begging for the pain, wanting the pain to remind her that she was alive. But was she truly living or was she just a shell of the girl she used to me?

A rare migraine formed in her temporal lobe as ivory caps lifted from sage hues. Taking in the scenario around her physique and the scent of freshly cooked bacon clung to the morning air, the taste of alcohol still lingering on her taste buds. Finally pulling her form from the magenta-colored sheets, her gaze slides across the mingled mess of clothes across the auburn wood. Her head shook slightly at the mess before she turned away from the mess and marched to the bathroom in a quickened pace. Slamming the door with enough forge to rattle the hinges and frame she drinks in her reflection in the mirror. Inhaling a deep breath, her dainty digits coxed with the marble countertop, and she leaned in only a few inches from her own reflection. She tilted her head. Her chocolate tresses cascaded down her bare back, mossy colored eyes widened, and coral plump lips twisted into a slight smile. The smallest of smiles that she could muster before her head dropped, resting against the glass and her fingers only tighten the hold they hand on her countertop

“This is your karma, Michaela. . .” The words uttered from her lips in a hush tone, tapping her head against the glass lightly as her father’s smile flashed across her mind which caused a single tear to glide down her porcelain cheek, the brunette continued to tap her head against the glass.

The karma that she was referring to being the night that she couldn’t remember. Maybe all of this was happening since she didn’t come see her father, she chose herself in that moment and now. . .She was suffering the consequences. “This is your fault.” Words drifting from her lips as her head continued to tap against the glass, the more she thought of her life choices the harder she tapped her head against the glass.

“You did this.”

“It’s your fault.”

“You deserve this.”

Those were the words that she spoke, she had lost count on how many times that she had hit her head against the glass, but the sound of a slight crack caused her to lift her head upward, crimson liquid oozed downward and onto her plump petals as her tongue glided to capture her own blood in her mouth. Her hues never pulled away from her reflection, she took a step backward.

“You deserved it.”

Laughter resonated from the depths of her chest, pressing her palm onto the marble surface to catch her balance and her head shook slightly as her eyes blinked a few times. The reflection in the mirror held someone else in it, her head pulled forward as she wobbled slightly on the soles of her bare feet.

“Stop this.” His tone was stern, but she could hear the sadness behind them. She shook her head slightly to pull herself back to reality, but his presence still lingered in the room, his bare chest pressed against her. He spoke in a hush tone as an arm wrapped around her waist—he held her as he spoke. “I need you to stop this, please.” Michaela knew that he wasn’t here, this was due to the blood that was dripping from her head and the alcohol that was still pumping in her veins.

“Y—”

Before she could respond to his request, she heard the tug of the doorknob as the door opened slowly and Jessikah’s hues landed on her. “Mich, what the hell? I swear to God if you are tying to kill yourself, I’ll murder you myself.” Her best friend quickly tugged her into a warm embrace, she signed as she used the towel to wipe the dried up blood from Michaela’s head. “Please find something to live for, please.” Jessikah spoke in a hush tone which caused Michaela’s eyelids to slowly shut, the words still circulating in her head as the brunette drifted away into a slight slumber.

𝗜'𝗺 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗻

𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

“. . . My theory is about moments. Moments of impacts. My theory is that these moments of impact, these flashes of high intensity that completely turn our lives upside down actually end up defining who we are. The thing is, each one of us is the sum of every moment that we’ve ever experienced, with all the people we’ve ever known. It is these moments that become our history, like our own personal greatest hits of memories that we play and replay in our mind, repeatedly. A moment of total, physical, mental and every other kind of love. So, that is my theory, that these moments of impact define who we are. A moment of impact. A moment of impact has potential for change, has ripple effects far beyond what we can predict. Sending some particles crashing together making them closer than before, while sending others off into great ventures, ending where you never thought you’d find them. You see that’s the best thing about moments like these, you can’t, no matter how hard you try, control how they are going to affect you. You just gotta let these colliding particles land where they may and wait until the next collision.

And these moments of impact were about to leave Michaela at the edge of her sanity. . .”

Michaela’s eyelids fluttered open, lifting her head from the sheets that she was tangled in. Wiping away the tiredness that clung onto her porcelain features. “Mich, please make sure that you eat today, I’ll be back.” The sound of her best friend’s voice caused her to snap out of her thoughts but before she could utter her own reply, she heard the door slam behind Jessikah which meant she had already made her exit. It wasn’t unusual for Jessikah to leave so abruptly; her best friend had her own daemons to deal with and Michaela needed to play with her own demons. Michaela was used to it but that didn’t mean that she enjoyed being alone. A faint sigh elicited from her lips, delicate feet tip from the heel to the toe as she took another step forward as she made her way out of her empty room to the large hallway. Emerald irises shift around before squinting as something catches her eyes until she notices a pair of white wings, the feathers expanding outward; each feather covered in the whitest shade she had ever seen. The purity of the sight before her caused her breath to hitch in the confines of her throat, and she twists on her heels as her strides pick up in speed; shoving her way into a room yet to be explored as her heart rings in her ears she leans her curved figure against the wall. As her gaze rotates around the room a suppressed memory yanks at her conscious mind as the room melts away and she’s placed back in time the sound of music ringing in her ears, her gaze shifting around the room as the confusion sweeps her porcelain features. “Can you see it?”

The raspy tone spoke, her head shifting from left to right, searching for where the voice came from, but she couldn’t find it. Why was she back here? Was this her way of trying to remember?

“Can you see me?” His words spoke once more, snapping her from her thoughts as she was brought back towards the memory and the sound of her own laughter caused her mossy orbs to land on the version of herself that she couldn’t remember. The girl she saw before her was stumbling on her feet, her chocolate tresses were in a messy bun as she laughed. Michaela could see the damage in her own eyes.

“Look closer.”

Her hues shifted from the mess of herself onto the man standing near the bar, for a moment she felt as if he saw her. The anger was evident on his features as he steps forward, he cleared his throat as he shifted on his feet. She could see him move forward to her but before he reached her, Jessikah had rushed towards her friend. She lifted Michaela from the ground.

“No more drinking for you, I need to take you home, Mich.” Tuneful giggles resonated from Michaela’s throat as her words uttered, slurring every word that she spoke. “Jessikah, you worry too much, I’m fine.” She placed a chaste kiss onto her best friend's check, she lifted from the wooden chair as her arms extended outward.

“Who’s ready to keep parting?” The crowd screamed and her giggles continued as she watched herself get lost among the crowd of people.

Just as fast as she was placed in the memory, she was brought back to reality and her back was pressed against the wall and she looked downward as she held the feather within her slender digits.

“I’ll help you remember, Pomegranate.” His words repeated in her head as a stray tear glided down her porcelain features and droplets hit onto the white feather.

“. . . . ɪ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɪ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʀʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴᴅᴜꜱᴛ. ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴜʀɪᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴᴅᴜꜱᴛ.”

[amasiuncula]

⋆ PART TWO - BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY ⋆

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“Grab my hand, I'm drowning, I feel my heart pounding. Why haven't you found me yet? I hold you so proudly. Traumas, they surround me I wish you'd just love me back.”

Michaela Williams just found out some earth-shattering news, this was the second time in her life where she felt utterly numb. The only difference between the last time she felt this way is that she could remember, she remembered everything from her father’s death. It was on her mind constantly, no matter how hard she tried to forget his death; it was stuck with her. She couldn’t shake it. But this was different, the void that she felt in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t shake it. It was a sinking feeling; it swallowed her whole and left her utterly confused and lost.

She felt broken.

The type of the broken that couldn’t be fixed.

“Say you're there when I feel helpless; If that's true, why don't you help me?” The words uttered in a hush tone, her back pressed against the wooden headboard. A single tear glided down the apples of her cheek. The song that was playing had been on repeat for the past couple of days, it had given her some comfort or as much comfort that one could have during this time. Soft sigh emitted from her lips; her slender digits coaxed with the crimson duvet; pulling backward to expose her bare legs. She pressed her palms against the duvet to pull herself upward, the bare soles of her feet kissed the cold wooden surface as she inhaled.

Michaela stood in the middle of her room, her sage hues scanning the room, as her digits glided through her dark tresses and her head rattling. “I need to get out of here.” She mumbled under her breath; her hues landed on a golden frame that held a picture of her family; smiles were painted on everyone’s features which caused her to roll her hazel eyes clockwise prior to signing once more.

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Olive colored orbs stayed fixated upon dark pools and denim covered legs as her lithe physique strolled through the empty woods, lengthy arms folded underneath plump breasts to keep her arms warm. The chilly night air brushed past her cheeks which caused them to turn a coral shade prior to a sigh escaping glossed lips in a rather sentimental form as her mind continued roaming around the tragic events that took place a couple of weeks ago. Confusion, pain, hate and sadness have become part of her, lingering under the surface as she tries to shake them. Trying her best to get rid of the feelings that haunted her day in and day out—sometimes she could feel the light that she once had slowly fading away—her heart was growing colder by each passing moment. Each day was harder than the day before, the nights were worse. They always ended the same way; she would find herself in a fetal position; crying herself to sleep. Was this what Stacy meant by trying to move forward? Was this how it was supposed to be? And the nightmares—the nightmares—they were the worst. Michaela was sitting in a corner with her arms out, blood oozing outward. The blood even came out of her eyes. The sight caused her to wake up in a pool of her own sweat—it was an image that felt rather real. Michaela needed to know more about these nightmares, and she wanted them to stop. No, she needed them to stop because it wasn’t helpful. She needed to figure out what happened to her that night; her mind was confusing dates, times, and different events. She didn’t know what was real and what was only a part of her imagination.

Was she going crazy? Michaela questioned, her eyelids blinking a couple of times. Her hues scanned the darkened area as she paced back and forth. “Remember, remember. You need to remember.” The words uttered repeatedly as she paced, inhaling a deep breath as she shut her hues; clinging them shut.

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[FLASHBACK]

“Mich, where the hell are you? I can’t believe you are doing this right now. Do you not want to say your goodbyes?” Michaela could hear the concern and sadness in her older sister’s voice, her mossy hues rolled in their orbits as tuneful giggles uttered from the depths of her throat.

“Why should I do that? Everyone is going to die one day; you are messing with my high right now. I have a party to get to. I’ll text you later.” The words drifted from her lips and before Stacy could object, the brunette quickly ended the call, shifting her gaze towards her best friend.

“That was cold, Mich. Even for you.” Jessikah stated as Michaela just shook her head, extending her arm outward as she turned the dial for the volume so the music could ooze outward, her head bobbing to the music. “Jess, don’t start.”

Pressing her foot of the gas as she sped down the highway, laughter oozed from the two best friends. Michaela knew that her father was grasping for life, she knew that her family was coming undone. Why should she have to suffer? Everyone dies and she wants to live her life to the fullest, no point in wasting tears.

The night was filled with alcohol, weed and a lot of laughter, the buzzing from her cell phone was becoming rather annoying--she knew it was Stacy. She had lost count on how many times her sister had called her sister’s call. But clearly, she didn’t get the hint, pressing the cellphone to hear ear as she stepped outside.

“What, Stacy, What? I know he is dying; this is how I'm coping; can’t you just leave me alone?” There was a hint of coldness in Michaela as she spoke.

“Check your voicemail.” Stacy uttered, instantly hanging up the phone before Michaela could respond.

Confusion swept Michaela’s visage as she scrolled through her voicemail to find one from her dad, the speed of her heartbeat increasing as she pressed play.

“Hey, sweetheart, I know that you are hurting, and I wish that I could be here as you grow older, but I have to go…” His raspy voice uttered, pausing momentarily as dry coughing spilled out of his mouth. “I know that you will change the world but don’t push your sister and mother away because life is too short. I love you so much, Mikey Mouse. Don’t ever forget that.” With that last word, the voicemail ended, and tears cascaded downward; dropping onto her screen as she quickly dialed Stacy’s number.

“It’s too late, Michaela, he’s gone.”

[END OF FLASHBACK]

The moment had finally come, and she had escaped the darkness of the woods, boots kissing the solid road and her hues instantly fixated on a place that she had known too well; her boots halting as her legs languidly lost their place, her knees collapsing to the moist ground.

“Come back.” Those were the words that uttered from her lips, uncontrollable tears began to flow down rosy cheeks as her right arm extended outward, lifting her head up slightly as her hand ran over the carving on the headstone. Usually when she came to her father’s grave site, she would feel a little bit better but today was different.

“Daddy. . . Dad. . . Dad. . . I know I haven’t been here in some time, but I missed you and I miss all the little things. I miss how you would force me to watch those justice documentaries with you, I miss how we would just go on our nightly walks under the stars; always ended up falling asleep on the beach and most importantly—I miss you—I miss you so much and I don’t think my heart can take much of this pain anymore. I’m sorry that I didn’t say sorry. I’m sorry with being made with you…it wasn’t your fault I don’t want to hurt anymore; I just want everything to go back the way it used to be. I miss you and I will a l w a y s love you. Forever.”

Pausing briefly as the tears continue to cascade down her cheeks, shaking her head slightly as her hues focused on her father’s headstone.

“…..Say you're here, but I don't feel it. Give me peace, but then you steal it and watch them laugh at all my secrets. Scream and yell, but I feel speechless. Ask for help, you call it weakness--lied and promised me my freedom.”

[amasiuncula]

⋆ PART ONE - TITLE TRACK ⋆

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“I just want to run away, find somewhere that feels safe. Find somewhere the bad days don’t come as often in this sad phase. Somewhere I can be loved, where I don’t have to run away from my flaws, and I don’t have to be afraid of my thoughts.”

Michaela Williams, now known as the Black Sheep of the Williams family, was on a path of distraction. A path that she felt like she was a l w a y s meant to be on. The girl that seemed to have it all, didn’t have anything. Maybe this was her own doing or maybe she was scared of being anything else, that she didn’t even try. Why try? Why put in the effort? Her mother had already deemed her as useless-”a waste of space.” - as she had put it. Her mother did have a way with words after all, the only person that believed in her was her older sister, Stacy, but at the rate that Michaela was going--she wouldn’t even have Stacy.

How did she get here you ask?

The answer to that question was one that she couldn’t answer, she couldn’t remember who she was or how to get back to her. She was spiraling out of control and it didn’t seem like she would ever stop. Why should she stop? Society and her mother had already deemed her as reckless and unhinged--maybe it was best to bask in her new role.

But did she really deserve what happened to her? That’s a question she wished she could answer, only if she could actually remember what happened to her. . . .

The sound of the pitter patter of the rain hitting her window caused a soft groan to erupt from the depths of her throat, her eyelids fluttering open as her back was still pressed against the coral sheets, tapping her fingers against her duvet. Her hues fixated upon the ceiling fan; moving with the spinning object in front of her. Her lips pressed together as her mind continued to wonder. She had assumed that taking her medicine would allow her to sleep through the rain but she felt as if she hadn’t slept an ounce. The past couple of weeks had been hell, she had returned to California due to winding up at the hospital and ever since her return--her mother wouldn’t let her forget it. The constant fights were draining, Michaela had gotten used to her mother’s stern behavior but this time it was non-stop and she was exhausted. Michaela couldn’t remember what happened that night, she didn’t know how she ended up in the hospital. All she remembered was this ache...an ache that she had only felt once before and that was when she found out that her father had died; an ache that she had been able to burying but this ache was different, she didn’t know where this ache was coming from and she couldn’t remember anything.

Michaela lifted herself upward slowly, groaning as she felt the ache pierce through her frame. Sage orbs shifted towards the bright light that was blinking from her iPhone. Her slender arm reached outward, her digits coaxed with the device as she placed the phone against her ear.

“Hey, Jess, what’s up?”

“Thank God! I thought you were dead, where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering my text?”

Michaela’s head shook slightly, her free hand yanked at the duvet as she allowed her physique to sit up straight and the soles of her bare feet kissed the wooden surface.

“Jess, relax. I was going to call you but mother dearest hasn’t let me out of her sight. I’m in California, I thought Stacy would’ve told you that.” Michaela thought it was odd that her sister didn’t tell Jessikah, that was her best friend after all. Maybe it slipped her mind, it had to be that. What other reason would Stacy have to not tell her?

“Are you fucking serious? That’s bullshit. I was trying to see you at the hospital but the nurse on and on about only family could see you. Did they tell you what happened?”

Confusion was evident on Michaela’s features, her feet pressing against the wooden surface as she made her way towards the kitchen. A yawn slipped her lips as she flicked the light on which brought life back to the darkened apartment.

“Jess, you are literally confusing the hell out of me. I don’t remember what happened that night, when I woke up I saw Stacy and before I could blink, I was back in California. What am I missing? Do you know something I don’t?”

For a few seconds, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the rain. Jessikah didn’t say a word which didn’t bring Michaela comfort, she felt sick. She placed her palm against the wooden surface to give her support.

“Jess, hello? Hello?”

Sigh uttered from her best friend. “Mich, I need you to sit down for this one.”

Michaela shook her head instantly, she knew that Jessikah couldn’t see her but it was a reflex. “Just tell me, tell me what happened.”

The beat of Michaela’s heart picked up speed, her fingers clung onto the sink.

“Michaela, you...you were raped. By two guys and they f-.”

Before Jessikah could finish her sentence, Michaela could feel her heart beating at a rapid speed and her head became dizzy. The balance that she had slowly disappeared as her knees hit the wooden surface, the phone that she had next to her ear languidly fell to the ground and the sound of Jessikah calling her name as shriek uttered from her mouth. Michaela’s whole body collapsed. In that moment, she knew exactly what the ache was--she knew that she wouldn’t be able to return from this.

They stole a piece of her and the worst part is that she couldn’t remember a thing.

❝ If I'm a painter, I'd be a Depressionist. I need this time to decompress from this ketamine, this cocaine; this medicine for my growing pain. This weed I've been smoking, I'm dying inside. . . .❞

[amasiuncula]

❈ Tickets to My Downfall ◦ A Michaela Williams Story ❈

━━ Fair warning:

This solo series is inspired by Tickets to My Downfall by MGK so each chapter will be linked with a song on the album. Dark Themes will be discussed. ━━

Welcome to My Downfall. . . .