SKYLA. As the door shuts behind him, my small smirk fades away, and I look around the cottage. That cosy touch feels empty… My stomach drops, guilt filling me, followed by a void, one so deep it almost hurts to breathe. This is the part I hate the most; I know my flaws… I know when I’m fucking up but it doesn’t stop me from self-sabotaging everything. Even then, it’s easier to identify my flaws and another thing entirely trying to move away from them. Breaking a cycle that, for a fleeting moment, fills that emptiness, is hard. I live in those moments… It offers me temporary relief, a distraction I really need from the constant war that wages in my mind. But it always comes to an end and then it all sinks in, knowing I fucked up. But deep down I know I’ll do it all over again, because I need that, those small moments of reprieve they offer me. Picking up my phone, I unlock it and click on the chat app. It’s instinctual, another bad habit of mine that I’ve picked up recently. It has b
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