The moment I opened my eyes, I knew exactly where I was. I was tied to the dungeon wall because the chains were too big for my wrists. The memory was haunting and I frowned as I looked around. A little five year old Emmett tottered into my cell, holding a piece of bread and a cup of water that had mostly splashed out on the way here. He had come every day, bringing me things and he even tried to read me a story. Really, he was just making up his own based on the pictures, but I thought he learned how to read and was mesmerized. I’d taken the fall for knocking a vase over in the living room. Apparently, it was one of Francesca’s family heirlooms or something. She pitched a fit and so this was the punishment. Multiple days in the dungeon, hanging by my wrists, with what was supposed to be no food or water. It wasn’t painful now. Now, it made look back wistfully. Emmett had always taken care of me. I did what I could for him but it always felt so inadequate compared to what he did for m
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