Cyan
The heavy oak front door clicked shut.
The sound was tiny, but it echoed down the high ceilings of the foyer like a crack of thunder. Then came the absolute, suffocating silence.
I stood in the middle of the large space, my bare feet pressed against the cold floor. I didn't move. I didn't turn around. I just stared at the empty space where Nick had been standing three seconds ago.
Usually, people's words were like water off a duck's back to me.
They called me names, they called me crazy, they said I was too much, too loud, too shameless, too fake. I'd just laugh, blow them a kiss, and watch them burn themselves out trying to get under my skin.
Words didn't hurt. They were just noise.
But Nick… god, Nick had taken an axe to every single crack I'd spent months taping over.
'Fake. Pathetic. Empty. A mess. Chasing a high. Sleeping with anyone. Your father treats you like you don't exist.'
