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look in her eyes showed she'd been long broken by something else–someone else. It doesn't really matter. But if that is true, then I guess I'm soon going to be another wound to her. I recalled the way she'd flinched with just one step towards her, and how her skin had flinched when I grabbed her. How I couldn't tell if the sounds that came out of her mouth when my finger found its way inside her were sobs, or suppressed moans. And it made me pause for a moment to think about who had put that tension on her before I touched her. I gritted my teeth, grabbing the vodka bottle in front of me and smashed it on the wall across the room. It broke into pieces, shattering with brutal force as amber liquid painted the walls. That felt good. But not good enough. I felt the house watch me, looming around me–glass and silence. Freezing lightning dripped from the high ceilings like still raindrops, casting ghostly shadows on the black marbled floors. It reflected anything but warmth. This place is the kind of place where nothing soft belonged–just like me. The shattered bottle hadn't even stopped skittering on the floor when the sound of soft feet padded into the room, the owner of the feet turning on the lights. She had appeared like a shadow, her hair out of place, and lips puffy from sleep– or whatever it was that she sunk into. The whore I'd picked in the club the night before. I couldn't even remember her name. She paused after a few steps away from the doorway, her eyes scanning the broken glass, and the cracked rim of the one in my hand. "Rough night?" she murmured, and her voice was still soaked in sleep and invitation. I didn't answer her, but just stared at her. Bare smooth legs, my shirt clinging to the soft middle of her breasts. It was short enough to reveal the lacy underwear beneath. I didn't want her, but I'd brought her anyway didn't I? Right after my father dropped the fucking news on my table. "You're a Grave. You don't need to love her, just make me proud". He had said. Every damn thing has to be about him. The blondy sank her teeth into her lower lip like she thought it made her look desirable. And it did. This might just be what I need, but she doesn't matter. "Come here," I growled, stepping over the mess I'd made. She moved, swaying like she knew the rules and a smile spread across her face. She slid her hand up my chest, the other over my shoulder and attempted to kiss me. But I dodged it and gathered her wrists, flipping her onto the counter like she weighed nothing. "No foreplay tonight, sweetheart?" she said in between giggles, but that soon turned to a gasp when I shoved her pan