21. Messed up

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I messed it up.

I messed it all up.

She's gone.

And I handed her the reason on a bloody silver plate.

My grip tightened around the steering wheel as I slammed the brakes, the car jerking to a stop at the red light. My fingers tapped against it impatiently, restlessly, like that would somehow make time move faster.

She wasn't answering.

Not one call.

Not one message.

Nothing.

A hollow feeling settled in my chest, spreading fast, suffocating.

I can't live if she leaves.

The thought came so naturally it scared even me.

The light turned green.

And I drove.

Like a madman.

Speeding past everything, not caring about signals, people, consequences—

nothing mattered.

Only her.

Only getting back to her.

Five minutes.

Or maybe ten.

I don't even know.

My mind was too loud.

Too full.

Too damn late.

I pulled into the driveway so fast the tires screeched, barely waiting for the car to stop before I got out.

I rushed inside.

"Alicia—"

The door swung open.

And—

nothing.

Cold air hit me.

Empty.

Silent.

Dead.

It felt wrong.

Like the house itself was rejecting me.

Like it knew I didn't deserve to be here without her.

My chest tightened.

"No..."

I stepped in slowly now, my eyes scanning the space like she'd magically appear if I looked hard enough.

She wasn't there.

Of course she wasn't.

Still—

"Alicia?" I called again, louder this time.

Nothing.

Not her voice.

Not her footsteps.

Not even the soft sound of her moving around.

Just silence.

Heavy.

Mocking.

I ran a hand through my hair, turning in place like I'd missed something.

Like she was hiding.

Like this was a joke.

It wasn't.

"She wouldn't..." I muttered, but even I didn't believe it.

I took the stairs two at a time, checking every room—

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 06 ⏰

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