Chapter 33
Thorn – unknown 12004
Please forgive me. I failed you, mother. The words taste bitter on my tongue, a poison I cannot purge. You, the one who cradled me in the warmth of your love, the one whose hands held me when the world was too cold, too cruel. And yet I faltered, did I not? I faltered in ways you never could have imagined, and betrayed the very heart of the love you gave me.
I hear your voice in the silence, soft and sorrowful, like a forgotten song that haunts the empty corners of my mind. Your face—once so radiant, now a ghost, etched in the shadows of my regrets. And I failed you. I failed to be the child you believed in, to stand by your side in the way you stood by mine. My hands, once eager to return your tenderness, have become stained with the blood of my own mistakes.
Forgive me, mother. The words slip through my lips like an apology to a distant star, one that is already too far gone to hear. I have turned away from the warmth you gave me, and now all I hold is the cold, biting truth of my own inadequacies.
In the dark, I beg for your forgiveness, but I know it’s not something I deserve. Yet still, I ask, because I cannot live with the weight of what I’ve become without seeking your absolution. For I failed you, mother. I failed you, and no matter how I try to atone, I feel your absence like a wound that refuses to heal.