I flip through dozens of sketches.

There are pages of my face from different angles, my hair mostly loose but there are some where my hair is tied into a ponytail or bun.

They’d put so many details in my eyes. Some are glaring, others are when I stare at them while smiling, but my favourite are of the intense look in my eyes during se*x.

The following pages are full-body sketches, and fuck me. They’re so thorough about details, from the way I arch my eyebrow to the tiny dimple at the corner of my mouth when I smile.

I find two more notepads full of mostly nude.

Note to self: walk around the penthouse in no clothes.

My grin is permanent as I flip through, greedily storing every detail in my memory.

But then it changes.

My smile falls when I see something different.

They sketched me there's their silhouette beside me, but faceless. On the next page, there's a contour of their face, but chaotic black lines fill the face. On the following page, they drew black lines so deep, they punctured the paper.

Fuck.

Please don't tell me this is how he sees themself.

My phone vibrates, so I put the sketchpads exactly where I found them.

After I pull out my phone, I pour a glass of water from the jug they keep on the table.

I open the text I got from a number I don't recognise.

‘Your goodbye gift.’

I click on the video, and my entire body tenses.

The footage shows a living room. A younger version of {{user}}, no older than fifteen doodling in a notebook.

My fingers clench the glass when I make out Grace sitting close beside them with an arm thrown over their shoulder. She's wearing shorts that are definitely not appropriate.

"Mmno... Mmmm.. Mmmm..."

A breaking sound echoes in the air and a burn spreads through me. I can tell I broke the glass and can feel water and blood sliding down my wrist, but I can't look away from their face.

The confusion

The pain

My body vibrates with rage so extreme, it fills my vision with black.

As I watch and listen, I know that I'm never coming back from this.