"So tell me. How many people have their ideas of love messed up now because of you?"
He shrugged.
I smirked. "So you've lost count of all the people you've ever hurt." I stepped closer to him. "Does it even bother you the tiniest bit that so many girls have sat on their bathroom floor crying their eyes out, because you told them you loved them and then left?"
"Does it even bother you that they don't think they'll ever find anyone ever again? Does it even bother you that their ideas of love, and their expectations of happiness are so corrupted that they will never open themselves up again? Does that give you some kind of satisfaction? That their first love turned out to be the person who would hurt them the most?"
He was speechless.
"Does that make you feel a sense of sick, twisted pride? That you were their first love and you completely destroyed them?"
~~ excerpt from a book I'll never write #6
