Shattered Hand, Broken Heart, Burning Soul

Shattered Hand, Broken Heart, Burning Soul

Gavin

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The first blow cracked a rib, the second dissolved the world into pain. They dragged me into an alley, brutalizing me, shattering my drawing hand, and carving out my kidney. Just before I blacked out, I saw them: Eleanor, my adoptive mother; Olivia, my sister; Sarah, my fiancée. Standing at the alley's edge, watching with cold, tense eyes as I lay bleeding. Then, Eleanor' s chillingly calm voice cut through the haze: "Is it done?" A man confirmed my hand was shattered, and pointed to a cooler. My kidney. They had taken my kidney. Later, in the sterile hospital room, I overheard them. Eleanor confirmed my art career was destroyed. Olivia expressed relief. Sarah, my fiancée, twisted the knife: "This is for the best. Caleb couldn't handle the rejection." My heart pounded with sick realization. For seven years, my achievements had been sacrificed for Caleb's "fragility." I was a fool, believing their love, their sisterhood, their devotion. I was an obstacle, a resource to be drained and discarded. The party celebrating Caleb's scholarship, built on my ruin, raged downstairs-on my birthday, which they' d forgotten. I was bleeding, injured by a dog they claimed I' d attacked, forced to apologize by Eleanor, who shoved my head, sending me crashing. But as I lay broken, a new fire ignited within me. I clutched a faded photograph: my real father. And on it, a phone number for my grandfather. "I've been waiting for your call, son. Tell me where you are. I'm on my way."

Introduction

The first blow cracked a rib, the second dissolved the world into pain. They dragged me into an alley, brutalizing me, shattering my drawing hand, and carving out my kidney.

Just before I blacked out, I saw them: Eleanor, my adoptive mother; Olivia, my sister; Sarah, my fiancée. Standing at the alley's edge, watching with cold, tense eyes as I lay bleeding.

Then, Eleanor' s chillingly calm voice cut through the haze: "Is it done?" A man confirmed my hand was shattered, and pointed to a cooler. My kidney. They had taken my kidney. Later, in the sterile hospital room, I overheard them. Eleanor confirmed my art career was destroyed. Olivia expressed relief. Sarah, my fiancée, twisted the knife: "This is for the best. Caleb couldn't handle the rejection."

My heart pounded with sick realization. For seven years, my achievements had been sacrificed for Caleb's "fragility." I was a fool, believing their love, their sisterhood, their devotion. I was an obstacle, a resource to be drained and discarded.

The party celebrating Caleb's scholarship, built on my ruin, raged downstairs-on my birthday, which they' d forgotten. I was bleeding, injured by a dog they claimed I' d attacked, forced to apologize by Eleanor, who shoved my head, sending me crashing. But as I lay broken, a new fire ignited within me.

I clutched a faded photograph: my real father. And on it, a phone number for my grandfather. "I've been waiting for your call, son. Tell me where you are. I'm on my way."

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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