My Heart, His Spare Part

Johns

last thread of hope, of any lingering illusion. The world tilted, then snapped sharply back into focus. The alcohol, which had dull

ad chosen her. Witho

k my moment of shocked paralysis as an invitation. "Hey, where'd your boyfriend go?" he s

ut a raw, furious beast. My hand shot out, grabbing an empty beer b

ck of glass. It shattered, splattering his face with blood and beer. The sound

e with shock, narrowed into a vicious glare. "You crazy bitch!" he roared, his voice th

r the pain. For anything. A strange sense of

blow nev

nt's, filled my senses. His body, hard and unyielding, shielded me. His arm, the one already injured, took the brunt of the

back. But it

comfort. But then I saw his eyes. They were not on me. They were on the man, blazing with a dangerous

ers down my spine. The man, still clutching the broken glass, recoiled, fear flashi

ually so controlled, were wide with fear, his face pale. "Kianna? Are you hu

urt? Did he touch me? The irony was a bitter pill. He was asking if

ed by pure rage. My body was still weak, and I stu

ing but the hollow shell of a man who had betrayed me. My voice was a raw, br

nd terrified, clutching his arm. "But your loyalty," I continued, my voice ga