The last petal fell from the flower in her hand. And a single miserable tear stole from her eye. The fire inside her burned with hate for Him.

He was the one who started it all. He was the one who stole her heart and ripped it like paper.

He didn’t love her. Love was nonexistent to Him. He was just a man not even that, but a boy. A pathetic child.

Her hand shot up to her chest. She lifted up her shirt. The bruises still stained her skin like wine.

She clenched her fist with fury. How dare He, she thought.
Then she knew. She knew why He hated. She knew why He destroyed. Because He was the father of her child.