𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘| Miguel Diaz [COMPLETED]

𝒍𝒊𝒙. skeletons

chapter fifty-nine:
❛ skeletons ❜

PLEASE DONT BE A GHOST READER!!!
COMMENT AND VOTE! IT HELPS US WRITERS STAY MOTIVATED:) STOP BEING A GHOST READER!! PLEASE!!!! PLEASE JUST VOTE AND COMMENT!! ITS NOT HARD

STOP BEING A FREAKIN GHOST READER!!! VOTE PLEASE!!!

STOP BEING A GHOST READER!!
im so sorry for all the notifications but please stop being a ghost reader!!!! i dont how many times i have to say this. i am so sorry for the notifications but this is really annoying to see views go up when the votes aren't.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

Arizona's fingers trembled as she clenched them into fists at her sides. She stood outside the psychiatric facility, staring up at the dull gray building, her stomach twisted in knots. The air smelled like rain, heavy with the kind of tension that made her chest tighten. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, but she wasn't sure if it was from nerves or the sheer fury boiling inside her.

This was the last place she wanted to be.

For weeks, she had avoided thinking about her father. She had buried the memories, ignored the nightmares, forced herself to focus on Diego, on Mom, on moving forward. But the anger hadn't faded. It had only festered, clawing at her insides, demanding release.

And now, she was here.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the heavy glass doors, the artificial chill of the air conditioning making her skin prickle. The inside smelled sterile-too clean, too lifeless, like a place that had stripped away everything human. A nurse at the front desk looked up, offering her a polite but detached smile.

"I'm here to see Alexander Reyes," Arizona said, her voice sharp and unwavering.

The nurse nodded, checked something on her computer, and then gestured for Arizona to follow. Each step down the long, dimly lit hallway felt heavier, like her body was resisting, screaming at her to turn back. But she didn't. She couldn't.

Finally, they reached a door with a thick glass window. The nurse opened it, stepping aside.

And there he was.

Her father sat in a chair near the window, the weak morning light casting long shadows across his face. He looked different-thinner, paler, with dark circles under his eyes. His posture was slumped, his shoulders hunched, as if the weight of his sins had finally caught up to him.

For a split second, Arizona felt something stir in her chest. Not sympathy. Not pity. Just the ghost of a memory-of a time when he had been her father, when she had loved him. When she had trusted him.