Page 11 of His to Destroy

It begins with the diary.

Gaspare had found it. Read it. And twisted every word into something ugly.

He confronted me in the library, voice low and scathing, eyes burning with suspicion.

"Trying to seduce me for your brother’s benefit?"

I remember standing there, stunned, my mouth dry, heart hammering in my chest.

I tried to explain. To defend myself.

But he wasn’t listening.

He never did.

He dragged me from the building like I was poison. Threw me into that alley like I was nothing. Left me in the dark with those cruel, final words:

"Let this be your last game, Almeria. I see you now. And I’ll never be fooled again."

Then he walked away.

I remember the sound of his footsteps receding.

I remember the cold settling in my bones.

And then…

Another man. A stranger. A shadow.

I don’t remember his face. I couldn’t even see his face. The only thing I can recall clearly of him is his voice. And the smell of sweat and tobacco. The rough scrape of brick against my back. The searing pain.

I screamed until my throat bled.

No one came.

Not even the one who dragged me there in the first place.

When I came to hours later, I was alone.

Everything hurt.

Inside. Outside. Somewhere deeper than either.

I crawled out of that alley, covered in blood and shame and silence.

And I ran.

I changed my name. I changed my life.

I never looked back.

Until now.

I stand at the bathroom sink, clutching the edges like they’re the only solid things left.

Has he ever understood what he did that night?

Not the assault. He didn’t touch me.

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