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I can’t bring her back into the darkness of my world. No matter how much I need her to light my path.
“Why do you call me that?” she asks. “Little Bee?” “You used to know the answer to that too. I’m deathly allergic to bees, Lucy, and the only thing more detrimental to my health is you—the way you affect me.”
“I’m not afraid of dying,” I tell her. “I’m afraid of leaving you here alone.”
“Because the love that we have—yeah, it might end up being our downfall—but it’s a fall I’ll take if it means taking it with you.
I used to think she’d be my downfall, that her touch would damage me beyond repair. And I was right. Because this obsession, love, devotion I have for my Little Bee is nothing short of terminal. It’s also a life sentence because I will love this woman till the day I die. And long after too.
