13| Maverick.

I can sense the torrent of torment that is weighing Arnica down. Anchoring her mind in an abyss of destruction, plucking away at her already fragile heart and making it almost too difficult to open up and trust anyone. And that’s all because of me, Matthias and my father.

The Quinns as she prefers to dub us.

The guilt and shame of being her tormentor all these years is eating me up, and I want nothing more than to tell her the truth.

Because we all know that secrets are weapons and weapons kill.

I crave to explain to her what happened that fatal night, with the hopes that she can eventually learn to forgive me and find some solace in knowing that I was forced to etch my sins into her innocent soul.

Going to church and confessing my depravities hasn’t changed anything. For most of my life, I believed Arnica was my first kill.

Her agonising screams that night tore through me, embedding the gut-wrenching sound in the back of my mind—bleeds my ears dry each time I am reminded of what I