Eli always knew it would end like this.
Not in silence. Not with guilt slowly eating him alive. Not with a clean break.
But with destruction.
He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon.
It started with a careless mistake. One the older man should’ve never made.
He left the bedroom door cracked.
It was early. Still dark. But Natalie had a habit of waking at dawn to pee or scroll through her phone before sunrise.
That morning, she got up and walked past her father’s room, expecting quiet.
Instead, she heard it.
The creak of the bed.
A muffled moan.
A voice she knew too well—Eli’s—low, desperate, wrecked.
She paused.
Then pushed the door open.
What she saw would ruin her.
Eli was on all fours, face buried in the sheets, back arched, the older man behind him, one hand fisting El
