SERAPHINA’S POV

A part of me dies once I make the realization. Deny it as I may, I did it.

‘You killed your own friend.’

‘You lost control again.’

The vicious, negative voices in my head begin tearing me down once more, just like they had that night, taunting me, lording over me for ever being hopeful for a second that I could change anything.

Hope is a luxury I once had.

I danced around in the fields of possibilities, imagined what my life could be like. Hope was like a shining ...