A/N: I may mark this fic as M/Trigger because of the things said in this story may or may not be triggers. I will do it as a precaution. The story is in 3rd person pov with some chapters or sections in the point of view of third person Kai. The prologue is in first person point of view with Hyelin as the speaker.

Prologue

I walked through the hallways of my university with a dull look on my face. The halls were bleeding a dark grey; the people around me were becoming faceless figures, and I couldn’t hear, touch, or smell anything. This was the consequence of the choice I made, so I was going to have to adhere to it. Starting today, this will now be my life. The life of me having nothing and giving another life nothing, but whatever love can give it because I can’t kill it. I want to kill it. I want it gone. Because this right here—inside of me—cannot happen, not now, and not ever. I’m not capable enough, so it needs to be dead.

But I just can’t do it.

No matter how many times I walked to the door of the gynecologists with that check in my hand, ready for it to disappear and then to disappear myself.

I can’t do it. I’m not a murderer. I can’t take someone’s life away before it even happens. I can’t make that choice for that human being. What if it wanted to live? What if it wants to be loved? What if it never wanted to be alone?

Yea, alone. Loneliness is dark. Loneliness is a very dark color. Loneliness has a hint of bright yellow coming from the darkness within to show hope. Hope for light in this dark path. Hope for the feeling of loneliness to somehow, in some way, at some point to disappear or at least subside.

I never wanted to be alone.

But that was a choice that I didn’t have. I didn’t choose for my mom to leave or for my dad to become a drunk and never be home.

That’s why I cannot give up; I cannot let my poor decisions mess up another’s.

 I cannot lose this life just because I was a victim. Because I was a victim of his sugar-coated words; because I was a victim of his honey-glazed touches; because I was a victim of his Irish soap smell; because I was a victim of his spiced cinnamon taste; because I was a victim of his tanned skin, his dark mysterious eyes, his prominent features, and his smooth skin beneath my fingers. And all that came with.

Yes, I fell in love. I fell in love at first sight. I fell in love at first sight with someone I will never see again. It was a onetime thing. A onetime that I regret. I’m only 23, and he is only 24. But then a month and a half later there I was, in my dorm bathroom, on my knees, hands around the toilet bowl, tears down my face, and a heart filled with regret.