Elle's POV

Another night of sweaty bodies and pounding music still hasn't drowned out my thoughts. Another night of tequila and random men and women vying for my attention still hasn't distracted me from my past mistakes.

Self-loathing still rages through me, like a fire that destroys every happy memory in its wake only to leave ash and misery in its place.

That's what happens when you play a hand in murdering your brother.

I can't even say his name. I can't even face what my actions have caused, no matter how many times I try to convince myself that I don't know. I didn't know what my cunt of...