by M.J. Fields
Then, I broke her. I tore her up. I shattered her. But she was breathing, living, and I knew damn well, she was on the verge of loving, but it couldn’t be me.
I turned from her for the red white and blue. Because war, destruction, hell even death was more welcome than the possibility of hurting her.
I didn’t deserve her, and she sure as f*@^ didn’t deserve me.
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