He didn't give me the chance to reply. Shaking his head, spitting on the ground, he turned his back on me. I didn't try to stop him. Further and further, until he became but a silhouette in the distance, I watched him go.

"Bright side," I found myself murmuring. "At least he didn't hit me this time."

But then again, that wasn't much of a bright side, was it?

Isaac was wrong. Love didn't fade. It just hurt. I loved him. I loved him the way I would my own flesh and blood . . . and his dismissal, his disregard for everything we had been through together, for twelve...