All Chapters of My Bruised Heart: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

*WARNING METAPHORICAL DEATH OF SELF* VIOLENCE*MILESI was weightless.Calm.Still.And I think I loved it.I floated on something endless, something vast. No light, no dark. Just quiet. I was neither here nor there. No pain, no burden, no fear.I just... existed.And that was all I had ever wanted—to simply be.But the thought alone woke something inside me, something long tired of staying quiet.A sharp tug behind my navel knocked the breath from my lungs.I gasped—only to find I had no lungs, no air to take in, no body to feel the pull of gravity.Then—Pain.The sensation of falling hit me all at once, a rush of sound and wind slamming into me before I landed on my back in a green field. The impact sent a dull ache through my bones, a feeling so jarring after that endless nothingness that I barely registered the voice—"Fucking finally."I jolted upright.And I saw—Me.But not me.She was everything I wasn’t. Everything I had never been.Her long black hair cascaded down her back

MILESThe first thing I noticed was how empty my arm felt.For weeks, the IV had been a part of me, a tether keeping me here. But now, as Nurse Hilda carefully slid it from my skin, I was free."You’re all set, sugar," she said, her warm hands smoothing over my arm, gentle in a way that made something tighten in my chest.I had gotten used to her voice—her presence. Hilda was the only reason my mother didn’t have more time alone with me. Every visit, every lingering moment where Candice might have tried to poke and prod at my weakness, Hilda would swoop in, checking vitals, fluffing pillows, telling long-winded stories about her family.And I had let her.Because I knew what she was doing.And I liked her for it.She smiled as she set aside the IV. "I sure will miss those gorgeous eyes of yours, sweetheart. You remind me of my brother, you know. He’s got dark hair too."I blinked.A strange pull tightened in my gut, something like a whisper of familiarity. "Oh?"Hilda’s grin was all s

MILES Maybe I thought I would be prepared to return to university. Maybe I believed that after everything, walking these halls would be easy. I had decided to go despite myself, just to prove a point. That I wasn’t weak. But that weakness crawled out from the dirt I buried it in as soon as I entered my first class. I had spent the morning in the library, hidden in the quiet while Dom and Marcus were at practice. It was the first time in weeks I had been truly alone—no watchful eyes, no questions, no hovering hands. Just silence. Then, I left. And as soon as I walked—no, limped—into my first class, the whispers started. You would think the stares were because of the brace on my ankle, the sling keeping my shoulder in place. But no. It was because Dominic Black had his hand on my waist, his grip steady as he helped me to my seat. "Who the hell is she?" Someone whispered. "Why does she seem so close to three of the hottest guys in school?" "She’s probably fucking them." "No,

KENNY Her eyes were hauntingly beautiful. A storm in a purple sky. Lavenders on a cloudy day. Such beautiful damn eyes. If only they held a little bit of light in them. I remembered the first time she walked into the diner. It was late afternoon, the kind of heat that clung to your skin like a second layer. I thought she was a customer at first, so I grabbed a menu and made my way over, only for her to throw her hands up, a nice coral blush tinting her ears. “Oh, I don’t have any money,” she said, biting her lip. “I saw the help wanted sign and wanted to apply.” Her hair was windblown, strands sticking to her forehead from sweat, and she smelled like the sun… and honey. It wasn’t perfume—just her. Fresh, a little wild, like she had been running through an open field before stepping in. I should’ve said something. Anything. Instead, my brain short-circuited as I followed a single bead of sweat trailing down her freckled cheek, over the curve of her jaw, disappearing beneath the

KENNY Miles acted like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t unraveled in my arms. Like she hadn’t called my name with my hands on her skin, my mouth against her throat. Like she hadn’t begged me to make her feel something. And fine. I could play along. But I wasn’t stupid. The way her fingers hesitated sometimes when she reached for something. The way her gaze flickered, just for a second, when I got too close. The way her lips parted when I made her laugh, like she had almost forgotten she could. She hadn’t forgotten. I could tell my the way her cheeks would flush when my hand brushed hers. She was pretending. And I let her. I still made her coffee the way she liked it. I still teased her when she got flustered. I still called her Mimi, just to see the corner of her mouth twitch in that almost smile. She never pulled away. Never put space between us. But I knew where the line was. And I never crossed it. Until today. I was behind the counter at the diner, wipi