By the time I left the forest, I was bleeding heavily due to the multiple wounds that layered my skin.
Rex didn't even bat his eyes or extend any help throughout the fight with the rogues, and he left as soon as I killed them, making me want to cry.
Although I tried to stay unperturbed, I couldn't because my heart hurt from the way everything ensued.
It felt as if everything kept piling up; it was Oswald at first, then the case with Wyatt, and now it was Rex.
Why is everything like this? All the men hanging around me are uncaring jerks.
I stomped my feet unhappily and rubbed my intensely aching chest before continuing on my walk to the hostel.
The sky was dark, and the night was silent except for the almost non-existent noise caused by my footsteps. Somehow, the silence further stirr
