55. Deacon

The overwhelming ache in my chest brings the realization that heartbreak isn"t just a word. It"s a visceral sensation, a suffocating weight that presses down on my very being. It"s as if every fiber of my being exists caught up and tangled in a web of agony, a knot so tight that I can barely breathe.

Fate. I nearly laugh at the absurdity of it. How I unquestioningly trusted in the make-believe when I knew the only one I could depend on was myself.

Well, and Grace. I never considered her betrayal.

Betrayal is a harsh word for her role in this, but somehow, it keeps repeating in the recesses of my mind. The word itself is a poison that seeps into your soul, twisting everything you once held dear into a sickening mockery of what it once was.

Forever. Love. Always.

It"s the feeling of being shattered, of watching the individual pieces of your built-up trust fall away like shards of glass that slice through the fragile threads of hope that held you together. Disbelief gnaws at your mind, the relentless questioning of how someone you loved and trusted could do this to you, the excruciating realization that the person you thought you knew, the one you opened your heart to, was nothing more than a stranger.

My Tails…

Every beat of my fractured heart feels like a hammer blow, each pulse echoing with the memory of promises broken and lies spoken. It"s a relentless cycle of heartache and despair, a never-ending torrent of emotions that threaten to consume me whole.

Allowing my wolf to take control, I run, pushing my paws into the rain-soaked ground. I run, using my strength to fuel me as I attempt to burn through the pain inside with physical pain. I run, unrelenting, not slowing to avoid branches and taking every hit as I try to break my body in an attempt to tourniquet my emotions.

For hours, I circle the city, never slowing the back-breaking pace, continuing until I fall to the ground with exhaustion.

Panting, I lay there, all of my energy expended. My inky coat is soaking wet, and my paws are cut and bleeding. The sun should've begun its ascent over the mountains, turning the dark blue sky shades of purple and pink, but thick, angry clouds block out every beam of sunshine, physically manifesting the hopeless storm inside me.

My wolf releases control, causing me to shift and bringing a flood of pent-up emotions with the change. They slam back into me, clearing the jagged wreckage that was my heart.

I welcome the suffering, needing to feel every second of the hurt as I roll to my back and close my eyes to let the sensation wash over me, the rhythmic patter of raindrops forming a soothing melody against the cacophony of emotions.

Without the pain, I have nothing.

I am nothing.

The thought flashes in my mind, and I can't quite shake the chill of the calmness it provides.

I've lost Grace.

I have no purpose.

No future.

What's the point?