Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick Review

I stopped. The air turned electric. Every cell in my body screamed run , but my feet betrayed me, stepping closer.

Even if it killed me. Would you like a short poem or a character monologue in the same style?

"Who are you?"

Patch.

I didn't know him. But my soul did.

His name was a hole in my chest.

"Do I know you?" I asked, my voice a stranger's. Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick

I'd trace the ghost of a wing on my shoulder blade, feel the phantom press of lips on my forehead, and my heart would race—not with fear, but with a grief so ancient it felt like a second skeleton. My mother watched me with careful eyes. My best friend, Vee, filled the silence with chatter, hoping to drown out the questions I couldn't voice.