After Hurting Me to the Point of Being Battered, He Was Heartbroken

I stumbled out of the club.

It was early November, and Chicago's night wind was freezing.

It whipped around me, making my head spin even more.

I was walking down the street when someone ran up to me.

"Hey, do you need help?"

There was something strange in his eyes, something I couldn't figure out.

And then, in a flash, his unfamiliar face morphed into Matthew's.

"Matthew!"

I threw myself at him, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Tears spilled down my face as I kept apologizing over and over.

"Matthew" wrapped his arms around me, his hand rubbing soothingly across my back.

"Amelie, I've missed you so much."

His touch was gentle, his voice soft.

But when I tried to pull away, he just held me tighter.

Then, in the next moment, his voice turned cold, dripping with disgust.

"Look at you, Amelie. Don't you think you're pathetic? Is money all you care about now?"

I shook my head, frantic. "No, no, it's not like that…

"Matthew, look—this is our ring."

I shoved him back, yanking the necklace from around my neck and showing him the ring hanging from it.

"Are you crazy?!"

I hit the ground hard, scraping my arm on a jagged branch. Blood started to drip down.

The illusion in front of me vanished, and the man I had mistaken for Matthew stepped back, looking at me like I was contagious.

Suddenly, I heard the screeching of tires.

The next second, a familiar pair of arms pulled me into an embrace.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Before I could even answer, the world spun, and the alcohol dragged me under.