Roccos Pov 17 Better Extra Quality Jun 2026

It was from her. The one person who didn’t flinch when I walked into a room. The one who looked at my bruised hands and didn’t see a weapon—she saw a boy who’d been clenching his fists for so long he’d forgotten how to open them. I hadn’t replied. Not because I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t know how to tell her that “here” was exactly the problem. Being here meant feeling everything. The cold seep of failure when I couldn’t protect the people I loved. The hot flash of rage when someone looked at me sideways. The endless, grinding exhaustion of pretending that I wasn't falling apart in slow motion.

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