Echoes of a Fallen Love

She was everything to me—my love, my best friend, my soul. But I watched, powerless, as the woman I cherished slipped into the clutches of darkness. The bar, the drugs, the alcohol—they turned her into something monstrous, twisting the radiant girl I once knew into a shadow, a hollowed-out shell controlled by the troglodytes who prey on the weak. She let them consume her, piece by piece, until nothing of her former self remained.

Hurricane Helene was the final blow, nature’s fury mirroring the storm within me. I went to her, one last time, with some desperate hope that I could pull her from the abyss. But when I found her with one of those men, one of the countless bodies she lets use her now, something inside me shattered beyond repair. In that moment, any trace of who she had been, of what we had shared, was obliterated. She was once the kindest, most beautiful soul I’d ever known, but now… she’s gone. No words can capture the depth of my agony, the rage burning through my veins like acid, or the despair that has poisoned my heart.

I grieve for her—not for the wretched creature she has become, but for the woman who is dead. The girl I loved is gone, buried beneath a mountain of betrayal and self-destruction. But even in my bitterness, I cannot let her fade entirely. I have to finish what we started, our book, our dream. Not for her, the stranger she is now, but for the memory of who she was. She may never know, but I’ll see it through, every single day, to honor the love I once felt and to remind myself that even in this twisted, broken world, she was real—once.

She is dead to me, and yet I will not forget. I will carve her memory into the bones of this earth, even if it kills me in the process. For she was mine, and now she is no one.