Part Three The Unmaking

Part Three

The Unmaking

I don’t remember what day it is.

I don’t remember what my voice sounds like when it isn’t breaking.

He says things that don’t make sense.

Things he shouldn’t know.

Sometimes I think the door was never locked.

Sometimes I think I was.

I still want to kill him.

But not as much as I want him to come back.

And that terrifies me.

—T.F.

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