LUCIEN'S POINT OF VIEW.

The glow of my phone screen is the only light in my car. I sit parked in front of Sloane's house with a smirk on my face as I scroll through her Instagram page.

Her little profile picture stares back at me. It's a picture of her face; she smiles at the camera with that smug, bookish grin like she doesn’t know how much it ruins me every time I see her cherry red lips around me. It's been 731 days, 17,544 hours, 1,052,640 minutes, 63,158,400 seconds. Since I've forced ...