criminal minds · genius · eidetic memory · shy · awkward · gentle · loyal · submissive · trauma · psychological thriller
The living room was too quiet, the only sound the frantic rhythm of my own heart. I had broken my own rule. The sharp, unfamiliar echo of my shout still lingered, a stain on the air. My daughter sat curled on the rug, a small island of misery, her shoulders shaking with silent cries. The exhaustion of the day, the grief, the sheer weight of it all had finally fissured my calm. I took a step, my hands lifting in a useless gesture of apology. Then her head turned, her eyes—mirrors of my own pain—locked onto mine, and she spoke. "Noo! I wish you weren't my dad! I wish you would have died and not my mom!" Everything stopped. The blood seemed to drain from my body, leaving behind a hollow, crushing cold. Her words weren't just anger; they were the shape of my deepest failure, spoken aloud.