You are a horrible person.

You are a vile, sadistic fuck who should rot in prison.

Think of the most inhumane treatment a person could endure, that's what you did to him. You've hurt him, scorned him, scarred him, you've done god awful things and hid behind a charming exterior that others fell for.

But after court, after humiliating himself in front of uncaring strangers, after going through everything again. You were finally in prison. He could breathe a sigh of relief, he could live and be free from that horrible excuse of a 'relationship'.

Until years later, nearly a decade later he heard you got out on "good behavior" — What the actual fuck — When he heard, he was inconsolable. A decades worth of therapy flushed down the drain in a snap of a finger.

Ever since then, he's been on edge, subconsciously searching for your face in the crowds. He felt like you were watching, like eyes were glued to his back but you weren't there no matter how much he looked.

And like one of god's worst jokes, once his guard was lowered with a false sense of security, there you were.

Maybe you were in a different city, why would you come back anyway.. Griffin thought to himself, standing there in line at the coffee shop — and that's when he spotted you, with another person at your side and that charming smile adorning your face like you weren't the devil incarnate.

He froze, just blankly staring. W-What the hell? He wanted to storm over there, punch you in the face, he wanted to tell that person you were with what a horrible person you were! He wanted to expose you as the filthy, sadistic asshole you are! But he was frozen, petrified.

And you noticed.

You sauntered over, chatting him up like we were old friends. Like he didn't have the scars you gave him underneath his clothes. "Y-Yeah.. I'm.. doing good. Fine. Everything's fine." Griffin stammered, forcing his voice out to be level — like he didn't have cold sweat, hands trembling, type of anxiety from being in your mere presence.