[ᴛᴄғ] ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: 𝗧𝗖𝗙 𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦𝗡'𝗧 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗘

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚

𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱

.

Cale barely flinched as the broken glass cut through his palm. He blinked, his red-brown orbs watched blood that start to gushing out. The wounds, however, sting 𝒐𝒉 so pleasantly.

𝑰𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉e𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒄𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕.

With every drop of blood, the floor and bed sheets are mostly drenched red. Ignoring the wetness on his palm, Cale walked toward the door. His bleeding hand grabbed at the door handle.

He gave a bored glance at his room one last time,

and he left.

.