Page 66 of Glass Jawed

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She wasn’t calm.

She was subdued.

Humiliated.

I stagger back until I hit the wall. My hand slams against it to brace myself, bile burning at my throat.

What the fuck have I done?

I don’t bother trying to push the guilt down. It barrels through me, flattening everything in its path.

I built somethinggood. Something fragile and beautiful and rare—with her laughter, her gentle teasing, her sleepy good mornings, and the way she’d steal my hoodie like she had a claim to it. She did.

And Iwreckedit.

Deliberately. Violently.

But...why?

Was it because I believed Tim? Did I actually believe him?

Or was I always waiting for a reason to sabotage this?

I move numbly into the living room. Same space. Different world. I sit where Tim sat. And for a horrifying second, I realize—I’m guilty of exactly what he did.

And I feeldisgusted.

He made a selfish choice in the name of identity. And I just did the same thing in the name of... what? Revenge? Vindication?

No. This wasn’t revenge.

This was self-destruction.

I was teetering on the edge, and I just jumped.

My gaze lands on the floor.

Her slippers. Yes,hers. Always will be.

They’re sitting there like she’ll come back and wear them again. I crouch. Touch the heel of one. My fingers shake.

I don’t just feel guilt anymore.

I feel...grief.

Because even though my brain doesn’t want to, my heart has started mourning her. Fuck.

I drop my head into my hands. A fire ignites behind my eyes, hot and unbearable. I breathe raggedly through it. I think I’m sober now. Which makes it worse.

The cool touch of the charm on my wrist brushes against my skin. I look down. It’s still there.

And then I see the time on my watch.

1:27 AM.

I let her leave. Alone.

Toronto’s not dangerous, but downtown? At this hour?

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