RAYLAN
"Memories have a way of twisting the knife, turning even the kindest intentions into painful reminders. They linger like shadows, a constant reminder of the past's cruel lessons, making every step forward heavy with the weight of regret," I muttered, the irony cutting deeper than ever. Surrounded by the wreckage of my good intentions, I couldn't fathom how profoundly I had miscalculated. Alvara had just woken up from a two-week coma, and instead of bringing her comfort, I had reopened her wounds. The scene replayed in my mind: her standing in the cabin, surrounded by roses, eyes shifting from confusion to sheer agony. What had I been thinking? Each petal was a dagger to her heart, and I was the fool who placed them there. Desperation fueled my steps as I headed to the library. As I opened the door, there she was, lost in her thoughts, a distant look in her eyes. "Alvara," I called softly, stepping closer. "Avy… Vara." No response. The silence was suffocating. I reached out, my touch gentle yet hopeful. As my fingers brushed her shoulder, she recoiled violently.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeyl6bMXUtE
"Don’t beat me, don’t beat me, please! Don’t harm me! Stay away from me! Don't touch me, don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice raw with fear.
My heart shattered into a million pieces. "Alvara, it’s me, Raylan... it’s me, Ray. Calm down, love, please," I pleaded, my voice trembling. I could see the terror in her eyes, a terror that wasn’t there before. This wasn’t just fear; it was a deep, haunting memory resurfacing.
What have I done? The question echoed in my mind, each repetition heavier than the last. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to fix this, but how could I erase the pain I’d inflicted?
I knelt beside her, trying to calm her down, to bring her back from the edge. "It’s okay, Alvara. I’m here. It’s Raylan. I won't hurt you, I promise. Please, just breathe," I whispered, my voice soft and soothing.
But a part of me wondered if she’d ever truly be able to see me without that fear again. I wanted to be her safe haven, but now I felt like a monster in her eyes.
She began to calm down, her breathing slowing. But the look in her eyes stayed with me—those wide, frightened eyes. She didn’t react this way before, never ever. Her grey eyes were frightened by my sight; I saw terror in them instead of the love I once hoped to see. The terror in her eyes made me scared to death. Was her reaction due to haunting memories, or did she see that beast within me?
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