Bastard. Asshole. Demon child. Deadly. The one even Death fears. I’ve heard them all and wear them like a badge of f**king honor. It’s who I am. I couldn’t do what I do and live the life I lead if I allowed any of those names to affect me.
Yet, she called me the Devil incarnate and it shifted something inside me. Pair that with her implying I was narcissistic then telling the chief of staff I am a wild card with a heart as cold as the frozen tundra and I can’t seem to function.
Three. Three insults in one report cause me to question everything. It’s not her words that did me in exactly. No, it’s that damn number. That number haunts my waking dreams. It conjures things I don’t want to deal with; thoughts and a life I said I’d never return to, ever.
Three is the death of me.
She’s killed me and doesn’t even know it.