Dane's POV:
I slump to the ground after shutting the door behind me, my back sliding down the wood until I hit the floor hard.
The impact knocks the air out of my lungs—but I don't welcome the breath when it comes back.
It hurts to inhale.
It hurts to exist.
She looked so fragile.
Not weak—never that—but fractured.
Like something vital had been cracked and held together only by sheer will.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Coming back to her.
Dragging her into my world .
I should have stayed away.
Should have let distance do what I couldn't—protect her.
Instead, because of me, she suffered.
The guilt doesn't just sit in my chest—it presses.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Like hands wrapped around my ribs, tightening every time I try to breathe.
Another weight added to a spine already bowed with too many sins.
When I saw her yesterday—
clothes torn,
button undone,
her body handled like she was a rag-doll—
something inside me split open.
I can still see it when I close my eyes.
