Jade settled her eyes on her boyfriend of three years. She took in the curve of his brow, the brown of his eyes, the bow of his smile, and she had a hard time believing he had been the one to make her feel this way.
It seemed impossible that he had been the one that imprinted a scar on her heart, put out the only spark of life she had left in her out.
Yet here he was, doing just that.
In the seventeen years of her miserable life, Beck Oliver had been the only one that seemed to matter. She could live without her friends, she could even live without her loveless father and the anguish he seemed to bring with him every time he entered a room. She didn't need, or want, anything in this world besides the feeling of Beck beside her, the warmth of his hand as it rested protectively on her shoulder.
But all that threatened to end as he stood in front of her, his eyes pools of sorrow, his sad smile a semblance of regret. "I'm sorry," he says, and Jade doesn't hear him over the break of her own heart.
