IGNORING HIS EMOTIONS

A ray of bright morning light rippled through the dark curtains and shone on Alarick’s eyes rousing him from his sleep.

“Ugh.”

Alarick raised his palm to his head to shield his eyes. He groaned and turned over covering his head with a stray pillow. The image of blood and the flowing of blonde hair in the wind before a body fell flashed in his mind. Alarick threw the pillow off his head and sat up straight. His hands touched his hair. It was real. What he witnessed was real. Grace was really dead.

Alarick sighted the bottle of whisky he dropped the night before. He instinctively gagged at the thought of drinking it again. It would only make him forget and that was not what he needed. He needed to remember who killed Grace. He needed to keep the fire of hatred within him burning for him to be able to take revenge. Revenge on Dylan.

Alarick stood up from his bed while simultaneously grabbing the bottle from the ground. He capped it and set it on his bed stand before stripping his clothe
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