Let me go..

Heartbreak...

Roger leaned back against the cool, wooden surface of the bar, his mind racing even as he forced a casual look upon his face. The hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses faded into a dull background noise, overshadowed by the storm brewing inside him. He watched Char, her fiery hair catching the dim light as she stormed out of the bar, eyes blazing with anger.

He had said the words he knew would hurt her. A thinly veiled threat that struck deep, even he could feel the weight of it. She stood there for a moment, fists at her sides, trembling with fear and anger. It was the moment he'd been waiting for; he needed her to unravel.

But the clock was ticking. Roger knew Char would head straight for Mia, her trusted confidante, a wild card in his punishing game. Mia was the reason Char had left him the first time, and he couldn't allow that to happen again. If she turned to Mia and they plotted together, his carefully orchestrated plan could crumble like so much chalk underfoot.

He drained his glass and shot a look at the bartender. "Keep my tab open," he muttered, ignoring the bartender's raised eyebrows. He pushed through the bar's heavy doors, the cool evening air hitting him like a slap in the face.

Roger assessed his options. He could sit back and let the anger rot him from the inside out, or he could take action against the one person who would hurt Mia the most: Char. Char had always been the weak link, the one who followed Mia's lead too closely. If he could hurt Char, he might just break Mia's illusion of paradise.

Roger knew he had to act now before anyone could stop him so he ran out after her. Roger cornered Char in a secluded alley near her apartment. He leaned against the brick wall, shadows cloaking him like a predator waiting to strike. Char, oblivious to the danger lurking, "Char," he called, his voice low and menacing.

The sight of her frightened face ignited the rage within him. "You took everything from me, Mia was mine, and you stole her away."

"You played with her like a toy she wasn't yours don't do this," she pleaded, backing away. "This isn't the answer."

But his anger consumed him. In a blinding flash, he lunged forward. The confrontation escalated quickly—words gave way to violence as Char struggled to defend herself against his relentless assault.

Then it was over, Roger stood panting, the weight of what he had done crashing down on him. Char lay on the ground, broken and bruised. Panic set in, and he felt an overwhelming urge to flee. He abandoned her there, leaving chaos in his wake.

It wasn't until the sirens echoed through the night that reality hit him. Char was rushed to the hospital, her life hanging by a thread. The weight of his actions didn't seem to weigh on him at all. Remorse wasn't an emotion Roger felt. He knew he needed to leave and fast.

Char is hurt, aching inside

Roger needs to go, nowhere to hide

The flowers wilt, the cards pile high,

As Char struggles, clinging to life