Prelude
He always believed that the guilt would follow him through life — a little extra weight on his shoulders, preventing him from standing straight.
It was his fault, after all.
That’s why he kept seeing her face each and every night, the prelude to his nightmares. In the depths of his unconscious mind, he’d watch her features twisting with pain — the pain he had caused. Oh, how he wanted to destroy that terrible memory but it had been branded onto his heart and short of carving that organ out of his chest, there was nothing he could do.
And then she came, as a ray of light, penetrating the darkness that had obscured the truth.
It had never been his fault.
