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It’s hard to think straight.

The falcon looks over, as if understanding, and it hisses.

I am unable to comprehend just how messed up things have become. I shake my head and hold my face in my hands. I feel like vomiting, but I have nothing left.

The flight across the Atlantic, was exhausting, and I have not slept for like thirty hours.

After endless years of trying to find her, and finally finding the woman for me, she wastakenin a cruel twist of fate.

I cuss, and tell the universe that I hate it. Every atom of it. I hate it for screwing my life up, and every part of it.

I never had a family, and I never had a lasting girlfriend.

But finally, I got one.

I played my cards well, carefully, and perfectly. I worshipped her, loved her, and I protected her. Then the universe rips the one thing I truly love, from my grips.

Her.

I never expected to find true love, and I never expected to find her. My parents rejected me. And now she has done the same.

As I paceon the roof, the last rays of the sun kiss the horizon across Manhattan, I try to work out what is going on. I notice the falcon near the strong eagle statue, and I think about my messed-up life.

I suddenly laugh like a lunatic.

The universe is clearly messing with me, but I am still unsure how. I am also unsure, how things will play out.

The falcon is a sign, Storm brought into my life. I try to think about what the falcon represents, and something dawns on me. The broken falcon represents me.

Thebroken man.

Deep down, I know I have problems. Determined alphas who stop at nothing to get what they want often are.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

I’m scarred from a tough childhood.

I had to grow up ruthlessly fast. No parents. A horrific foster experience, and I was bullied, beaten, and tortured, before I hardened the fuck up.

Before I became untouchable.

Feeling alone, and worthless, from such a young age, had likely driven me towards chasing validation.

To prove I have worth. To prove I am worth keeping. That I have value.

I had been discarded as a child and given up for adoption. I have never tried to find my parents and I never would. They had me, and they tossed me out.

I’ve been cast aside,again.

I walk to the corner of my rooftop, and I crouch to vomit. There is nothing to throw up, so I knock back the whiskey. I look at the rock-solid eagle, then back to the damaged falcon flapping its wings.

I walk up to it, but I keep my distance. “Keep stretching that wing!”

The wild predator makes a strange cry, and I nod, as if we have some crude kind of communication.

We do not, I am just imagining things.

I head below, and inside, I roll my neck. I pace, like a caged tiger in the moonlight, trying to work out my next move.