Zillon looked back at his house one more time before taking on the road. He didn't know why, but his guts, or rather his instinct kept telling him to go back.
Celeste had seem different when she walked pass him. There was no life in her eyes, and her face reflected nothing but pain. His heart honestly ached when he saw her like that, but what else could he do?
Giving her hope would be even more painful, it would destroy her, well that's if she wasn't destroyed already.
Sorrow clouded his vision when he thought of it. Since the very moment she stepped into the house, he was bad to her. He treated her as if she was nobody and then blamed it on the fact that she was weak.
But it wasn't her who was weak, it was him. He was unable to sort out his feelings, unable to choose, unable to be hon
