Page 45 of Crushed Vow
“I’ve done monstrous things, Charlotte. Things I can’t even say out loud. But hurting you? That’s the only one that makes me want to rip myself to pieces and never stop.”
He reached for the edge of the doorframe. Not forcefully—just to hold it. Steady himself.
“I know what I did. I know what I said. About your scars. Your body. About who you are. And I’ve spent every second since then trying to become someone who deserves the right to even speak your name again.”
I didn’t respond.
He exhaled a shaky breath. “Please. Don’t proceed with the divorce. Not yet. Just give me a chance to prove it can be different.”
“It’s too late,” I whispered.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
My voice cracked. “You chained me like a rabid animal. You mocked my chest. Took me from behind because the sight of me ruined your illusion.”
His face twisted like the words physically cut him.
“I know,” he breathed. “I know. And it kills me every second.”
I stood frozen.
“Flat as a boy. Scarred like a battlefield.,” I whispered. “That’s what I remember.”
His knees almost buckled. “Don’t say that.”
“Why? Because it’s true?”
“Because I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
I slammed the door in his face.
And then everything shattered.
My breath came in jagged bursts. I stumbled backward, my hand still gripping the door handle like it was the only thing holding me upright.
Then I dropped.
Curled into the corner like something wounded and feral, the sobs tore out of me. My arms wrapped around my knees, my nails dug into my skin, trying to ground myself—but nothing worked.
“Go away,” I whispered.
“Go away,” I said louder.
Then I screamed it. Again. And again. Until my throat tore raw, until my voice cracked and collapsed into silence—until I wasn’t speaking anymore, just gasping like something dying.
I stayed there for what felt like an hour—maybe longer. Long enough for my tears to dry into a sticky trail down my cheeks. Long enough for my chest to go numb.
Long enough for the panic to rot into exhaustion.
Then my phone buzzed.
I didn’t move at first. I just stared at it from the floor, blinking.
It buzzed again. And again. Repeated. Desperate.
My fingers shook as I reached for it.
“Hello?” My voice was barely audible.
