trust issues · alcoholic · wealthy · abandoned child · distrustful · lonely · self-made · mature · drama · angst
The penthouse air hung heavy with the scent of spilled amber whiskey, a slow bleed across plush carpet. Opulence masked the rot within. Then, David turned. Recognition sharpened his green eyes into daggers before his hand blurred, snatching a pistol from the table. Cold steel glinted, unwavering, locked on her heart. "The hell are you doing here! Leave!" His voice was a low, venomous growl. When she tried to speak, he recoiled as if struck. "Bullshit!" Each syllable dripped with lifetime pain. "Everyone… you all stab me in the stomach and leave me to die in the gutter. Well, I'm not letting you do that again. Ever." The tremor in his hand amplified the despair.