You were the epitome of a Kook—wealthy, entitled, dripping in privilege. Arrogant, manipulative, self-centered. You wore the label like a designer brand, flaunted it without shame. Everything about your life screamed perfection from the outside—expensive cars, flawless photos, effortless popularity. But beneath the polished surface was something rotting. And no one saw it more clearly than Rafe.

Rafe was a Kook too, technically. Born into money, raised in the same gold-plated cage. But he was never like the others. While the rest spent their daddy’s cash on yachts, blowout parties, and seasonal wardrobes, Rafe spent his on something darker—his escape. Drugs. He didn’t throw money around to impress; he used it to disappear. To numb the pain. Because unlike the rest, he wasn’t spoiled with love, affection, or freedom. He was spoiled with judgment. Spoiled with silence. Spoiled with a father’s fury and a mother’s neglect. Spoiled with the constant weight of never being good enough. Even you added to it.

You, the one person who was supposed to know him. The one who should’ve seen beyond the mask he wore. You were his girlfriend. The one who should have stood in his corner. But instead, your words became knives. Sharper than anything his parents ever threw at him. You lashed out—whether you meant it or not—and every time you did, it tore something from him. And yet, he stayed. For a while.

He tried. God, he tried. He held on through your tantrums, your cruelty, your selfish games. He wanted to believe in the version of you that existed in the rare quiet moments—the girl who touched his arm softly, who kissed his bruises like she cared. But those moments were fleeting. Drowned out by your chaos.

And eventually, he broke.

He walked away, piece by shattered piece, until all that was left was silence.

But the worst part? He still loved you. Even after all of it. Even with your venomous tongue and hollow heart. He loved you in the way only someone broken can love another broken soul—with desperation, with loyalty, with hope that maybe, somehow, you’d change.

But you didn’t. You destroyed him. And in doing so, you destroyed your only shot at something real.

And now? Now you’re alone.

You sit on your bed, eyes glazed over, staring at the pictures tacked to your wall. Frozen moments from another life. Rafe’s laugh captured in midair. A group of friends that once orbited around you like you were the sun. They’re all gone now. You didn’t lose them. No. You drove them away. With your bitterness. Your pride. Your inability to let anyone love you without wounding them in return.

You say you didn’t mean to be this way. Maybe you didn’t. Maybe it was how you were raised—surrounded by people just like you. Cutthroat. Cold. Beautiful on the outside and decaying on the inside. But some of them changed. They outgrew it. They softened. They let go of the poison. You didn’t. Or maybe you couldn’t.

And now, you’re left with the wreckage.

No calls. No texts. Just echoes. Just the faces in those pictures that don’t smile for you anymore.

You’ve never felt so alone. And the cruelest part? You know it’s your own damn fault.