ELENA POV
Week Two.
I moved out of the hotel because I needed a place that feels like home to stay, and I couldn't live in Damien's paint house alone. I need somewhere to stay all by myself, somewhere to heal from this pain. I need my mental health back to normal because right now, I am almost going insane.
Martina found me a small apartment. Temporary. Furnished. Anonymous.
"You need your own space," he'd said. "Somewhere you can start to heal."
Heal. As if that was possible.
The apartment was on the third floor of a quiet building. One bedroom. Bare walls. Generic furniture that smelled like cleaning solution and other people's lives.
I stood in the middle of the empty living room, holding a single box of belongings.
Everything I owned fit in one box now.
My old life was gone.
I didn't want any of it back.
Too many memories. Too much blood.
This was supposed to be a fresh start.
