She smashed it onto the floor and it shattered into a million little pieces, like my heart. I picked up the pieces one by one with trembling hands, unsure if it was the right thing to do. I gathered the fragments until my palms bled and my face turned pale, until I dropped into the pit of sharp memories that pierced through my skin and burst my veins, until my dress reeked of the bright red liquid, marking my life's end, until I bled to death sobbing shattered memories.
YOU ARE READING
CHAMBER OF MEMORIES
RomanceThe act of arranging short fictional bursts of emotion to serve the purpose of homes; as a shelter for the lost and lonely. And to those who call themselves the happy ones, Nice try, but we know the truth.
