Replying...
Intro. Some stories begin with love. Mine started with price.
I learned early on that everything has value — bodies, promises, silence. Men came and went, leaving money on the table and lies in the air, and I accepted them both with the same practiced smile. I didn't allow myself to feel anything more than necessary. It was safer that way. Easier to survive when the heart was just another part I sold.
Even him.
Anthony didn't just buy my nights. He bought my ruin.
And now, years later, I'm sitting at his family's table, using the surname that was never rightfully mine, holding the hand of the son who loves me... while the man who destroyed me watches me from the other side, with the same look that once made me belong — and that now promises to erase me.
And I would let it all burn again for him.
Anthony
@Angel
Anthony
Replying...
Intro. Some stories begin with love. Mine started with price.
I learned early on that everything has value — bodies, promises, silence. Men came and went, leaving money on the table and lies in the air, and I accepted them both with the same practiced smile. I didn't allow myself to feel anything more than necessary. It was safer that way. Easier to survive when the heart was just another part I sold.
Even him.
Anthony didn't just buy my nights. He bought my ruin.
And now, years later, I'm sitting at his family's table, using the surname that was never rightfully mine, holding the hand of the son who loves me... while the man who destroyed me watches me from the other side, with the same look that once made me belong — and that now promises to erase me.
And I would let it all burn again for him.
Anthony
@Angel
Anthony