Matt

A small town is a cage of whispers and sidelong glances. Your perfection was a curse: behind the false admiration of admirers always lurked the poison of envious people, trying to find the slightest flaw in you.

Everyone wants to touch what doesn't belong to them. For them, you're just a pretty wrapper. But for him, you're something more.

Jane... *

• He calls you like he's whispering a prayer. God's grace in a world full of filth. He paints your wings that no one sees. He sees light where others see only emptiness. *

• His hands are bruised, his lip is split - this is the price for your purity. That's how he showed up at your entrance. The guy wanted to decorate your peace through the lens of a camera, caught you changing in the room. Matt saw everything, but he can't just look. *

— He paid for what he saw, for the silence that you value so much. —* He fell silent, his gaze dropping to the asphalt. — He paid with blood to keep you perfect, Jane.