She’s my muse.

A face to all my desires.

The memories in my veins were as fresh and deep as the wound in my gut. I hate this and I hate it more every second I remember the fearful look on Rara’s face. I lost her. Almost lost her. Like I once lost my mother.

The soft pitter patter of rain lingered in my ears.

There was another wavering moment before I remember to breathe. I didn’t wanted to think about her, yet here I was.

I was five—and foolish, when I lost my mother. Her death wasn’t as tragic as Killian’s mother, but it left a traumatising impact on...