.
one
reputation
.

He wasn't on my radar.

Not really.

It's been nearly twenty years. Even if I haven't forgotten, I've mostly moved on. I've been in a better place mentally.

Or so I thought.

Everything changes when the Starbucks barista calls out an order ready.

"Edward!"

Cold blood.

Hot rage.

Edward.

It's not a common name.

He's the only one I know.

When I look up and see a man with wayward, whiskey-hued hair walking toward the counter, I know it's him without seeing his face.

Memories come rushing back.

The boy he used to be.

Honor student.

Quarterback.

Golden boy.

Murderer.

I watch Edward wait in line to add cream to his coffee.

He seems impatient.

His dress shoe tap, tap, taps.

His focus is on his phone.

Even from behind, his posture and suit scream power. Confidence.

Look at me, look at me. Look but don't touch. Don't you want to know me? Be me? Don't you want to be sucked into my orbit and spit out, your life forever changed?

But he already did that to me.

To my family.

He etched a scar on our broken hearts, then the Cullens left town without so much as a fucking sorry.

When he turns around and I see his face, confirming it's him, my world is rocked.

Years of therapy are gone in a flash.

That's what happens when you don't get real answers or closure.

You're never truly healed.

You're left in limbo.

You're waiting for a chance at justice.

Coffee in hand, he walks out.

Just like that.

Something ugly fills my chest.

It's not foreign.

I know it well.

It's black and inky, coiling around whatever's left of my heart.

It's darker than hatred.

It's scarier than revenge.

Hurt him, it purrs.

Make him pay.

But how?