the lump in her throat feels like it may swallow her whole and she swigs at a glass of gin in a bid to wash it away — to dissolve the confession of his sin. this must be a confession. what else could he mean, and why is she always so drawn to the flicker of flames in the darkness? peyton clears her throat, an ugly, rugged, sound; one she masks with an attempt of seeming as dumb as she is pretty. a hand reaches for his, touch swelling with kindness as REVULSION overwhelms her. ❛ you can’t blame yourself, nick. she met you, fell in love… it wasn’t all bad. ❜
❝ it wasn’t, but now? it’s all bad. millions of people in the comfort of their home waiting with bated breath to see whether those accusations are true. and the media was so close to seeing the truth, that i had no involvement in her disappearance.
❞ though the warmth of the woman’s hand upon his own should have calmed the furious storm of emotions that raged within, his hand balled into a tightly wound fist; poised to strike. ❝ i cheated on my pregnant wife and now the entire nation hates me again. ❞ could he say without even the smallest of doubt that he believed that such a child existed? it were her final words. words that had almost convinced his conscience not to cause the woman harm. steel hues rested upon the features of the brunette, crocodile tears welled in the corners as he began to weep.
❝ i’m so sorry, you must think i’m an idiot. ❞