How naive of me to think he would love me. How stupid to believe I was anything more than a distraction, an object he could own. Play with. Discard.
His heart thudded in his chest like a drum, matching the fever's rising heat.
They said I was lucky. Lucky that someone like him even looked my way.
They don't know what it's like.
His throat tightened, as if the pain of unspoken words were catching fire inside it. These were the thoughts of the original Riven, he just knew it. The feelings of despair and helplessness were all too familiar, unfortunately.
They don't know how it feels to wake up every day wondering what it would be like... To have someone treat you kindly, because I never got to experience kindness. Not even once.
His chest rose and fell, faster now, erratic, like his body was trying to escape his own thoughts.
I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of trying to guess who I am in their story. The hero? The villain? A prize? A placeholder?
