Shattered by the Alpha Stronger Than Ever novel Chapter 130

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Chapter 7

Keith

It was staggering how guilt could morph into so many suffocating forms. At first, it hit me like a sledgehammer, unleashing a panic that short–circuited my mind. Then came the nauseating crash of realization, as the burdening load of what I’d destroyed and lost settled in. Fear followed, its icy grip wrapping around me. Now, I was trapped in a state of numbness, paralyzed by the creeping chill of remorse that refused to let my guilt fade, instead preserving it like a festering wound that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I’d come to acknowledge it as an integral, yet tainted, aspect of myself not a flawed but a sinful fragment that had ravaged every good thing in my life. And for what? An instant of indulgence and selfish desire, one that had seemned alluring only in the depths of my own twisted thoughts.

Every day, I felt suffocated by the person I’d become, a stranger to myself, forged from the dissolved bones of my own regrettable choices. Those choices now haunted me, with the memories of what I’d once had and what I’d so recklessly gambled away.

Mentally shackled and emotionally drained is what I am

Therapy had been a gradual journey, inching me closer to the serenity I craved. The process was far from complete, and I wondered if it ever would be, but I was making progress. The raw, wounded, and agitated version of myself, the nagging presence, no longer held

sway over me

It had empowered me to adopt a new mindset, one where I learned to scrub away the grime of guilt and shame, to dust off the residue of regret, and to cleanse my conscience. I’d come to understand that tears alone couldn’t purify my soul; instead, I needed to take action, to confront and clean the mess I’d made.

But even the smallest lapse could send me tumbling backward, returning me to the starting point of my anguish. In the blink of an eye, a moment of recollection could transport me back to the searing pain of what I’d lost, and for an instant, the wounds would feel just as raw as they had in the beginning

My coworker approached me, seeking permission to retire early, because of his wife’s impending childbirth. As the project lead, I nodded my approval, and he hastily took his leave. Ordinarily, I remained focused on my work, unwilling to let distractions creep in But this time, a pang of longing pierced my thoughts, and for a shifting instant, I envisioned an alternate reality.

I could have been the one preparing for fatherhood, building a life with Karissa, if only I’d confronted my demons with maturity. If only I’d confessed everything to her, allowing her to make an informed decision, instead of shattering her heart with my reckless actions.

That brief, haunting reverle had proved costly, as my momentary distraction sent me tumbling down the hoist way, the very area where we were laboring to complete the elevator installation.

Even as I plummeted toward a potentially fatal fate, my thoughts remained consumed by a single, haunting presence: Karissa. As I slowly regained consciousness, Karissa’s name was the first word to escape my lips, the first person my mind and heart instinctively reached out for. I begged the doctors to contact her, only to be told that they had already reached out to my sister, flown in from out of town after I’d lain unconscious for hours.

who had

I was a planet of pain, every inch of my body screaming in agony. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever endured, as if my skin had been flayed alive, my muscles infused with a scorching venom, and my internal organs bruised to the point where even the gentle rise and fall of my chest felt like a torturous task.

Yet, amidst the wreckage of my battered body, a surprising serenity washed over me as Karissa entered the room. With only one eye available to behold her, my gaze drank in the sight of her concerned face. The doctor’s words still lingered in my mind – three broken ribs, a cracked arm, a shattered leg, and a brutally injured left side of my face a litany of injuries that could have easily proved fatal. But fate, it seemed, had granted me another life, and with timely medical intervention, a long, leisure recovery was now within reach.

Keith,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she took in the sight of my almost smashed face. Her eyes welled up with tears, horror and fear etched across her features. Her lips, those soft, inviting lips, were bitten in concern, a habitual gesture that betrayed her anxiety. And then, her hands instinctively clasped together, a nervous reflex that announces her distress. It was a gesture I knew all too well, one that told me she was scared, really scared.

My gaze, however, drifted to her wrist, which was encased in a sprain bandage, and I summoned every last ounce of strength to form

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