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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