Touch of Regret by Autumn Reed



Snowflakes landed on my cheeks,but I didn’t care about the cold. I didn’t deserve to be warm. Not when he was dead, and I was responsible.

Though my arms were mostly covered in black satin gloves, my shoulders were bare, daring someone, anyone, to brush my skin with theirs. Please give me a memory of him.

I will feed off it.

I will savor it.

I will punish myself.

I felt the stares of accusation, of pity, as I reached the graveside, but I didn’t lift my gaze. It stayed rooted on the casket. The smell of churned dirt assailed me, and I inhaled deeply, stamping this moment in my memory. It would provide the fuel for what I had to do next.

For today marked the end of two lives. I wasn’t only saying goodbye to him; I was saying goodbye to the old me. The me who allowed others to suffer for nothing more than being close to me.

I was finally ready to accept what I’d been denying for weeks—my life had been irrevocably changed. I couldn’t sit back and let things happen anymore. It was time to take control.