Judas stares up at her ceiling, tempted to text her wife, or, ex wife, as she should call her. Rightfully so, Kit had every right to leave her ass. She turned into a monster of her own making.
She thought for a moment, the kids were still asleep, she was tired, it was early. She didn't want to be up so early, and yet she couldn't help it, usually her and Kit would've been talking about, well, anything, anything and everything until their minds ran out of things to think of.
She didn't know how to heal herself, Kit leaving her, after reassuring her that she would be there, really, really hurt. She thought that she had someone to help her out in a rough time when everyone else was seemingly ditching her for God knows what, and yet, she left. She left, and she probably didn't even feel sorry for it.
Judas understood that it was probably for her mental health, and she wasn't about to have a pity party, but it still hurt. It hurt like a bitch. What really stung is the fact that she couldn't do anything about it. She was stuck. She was stuck in an internal prison that she could never leave, a prison of her own creation, not Kit's, not her dad's, nor her mom's, hers.
Formally fitted and everything, she was trapped, and there was no leaving anytime soon.
She desperately wished to turn back the time and say sorry, or anything to make it feel better, as if that would do anything.
She knew it wouldn't.
