Dahlia

I’m living in hell. 

My foot is still bleeding. My head?

Still spiraling. 

Alaric hasn’t said a word since I told him I didn’t trust him. He is just... there. Spaced out, here physically, but traveling through his own thoughts mentally. And honestly? Same. He is this door that I want to open, preferably violently. But I keep choosing not to because what if I do and it turns out I won’t be met with roses and love? What if I open the door and I’m met ...