Wrath

I hated fire. I hated how the smoke wrapped around my naked body, stinging my skin with defiant embers. I hated the smell of burnt flesh, the ashes heavy on my tongue, my charred soul like splinters deep in my chest. She’s dead, Juliet. There’s nothing else you can do— Dragging my bleeding feet across the concrete, I walked toward the flames. Heat licked at my cheeks. Sirens off in the distance cursed my ears. Dead, dead, dead. All of this started because I made a choice—because I fell in love, because I was a lonely girl clinging to dangerous men. She was dead because of them.

© 2022 Dreamscape Media (Hljóðbók): 9781666528824

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Hljóðbók: 25 januari 2022