Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

Prologue

Remy - Six Years Ago

I heard a speech at a wedding once that said love is fair and just and kind. I don’t believe it's fair. Or just. Or kind.

Maybe that makes me a cynic. Or anti-romantic. Or pessimistic. But I don’t consider myself any of those things. If asked, I’d say I’m a dreamer, living in fantasies of what-ifs and somedays. A relentlessly hopeful fool who’s been brutally force-fed a dose of reality.

To me, love is a snowball rolling down a mountain toward a sleepy, unsuspecting town. It starts out small: a shy smile, a nervous glance at the empty seat in class and a softly rasped, “Sup.” It’s a gradual build from almost undetectable in the subtle flick of grey eyes and bumped elbows to witty quips and secret smiles. It gains density on walks home from school, sharing music and inside jokes. Its momentum becomes unstoppable when gazes linger and wander. When the air is so thick in your shared space that it’s impossible to breathe. When hugs last longer and longer .

Bracing for impact.

Because the snowball is on the fast track with no signs of stopping. It swallows everything in its path, no longer cruising— it’s out of control.

Destructive.

Dangerous.

It barrels for the doomed town.

And decimates it.

My knees are jello. They want to give out but I can’t move, not even to collapse into the rubble of what could have been. Cicadas scream in the darkness, harmonizing with the emergency sirens wailing in my brain. No, no, no. This can’t be real. This isn't happening.

Shock— that’s what this is.

I’m frozen to the core despite the smothering humidity of a post-storm Florida night. My fingers are numb with how hard I’m fisting the crumbled letter.

Love is a natural disaster, leaving irreparable damage in its wake.

I’m just another casualty.

Guess I’m a cynic after all.