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I’ve spent the past sixteen years murdering men who deserve it, and I’m not about to get sloppy now.
“Men like him don’t want a relationship, they want a fan club. The more members the better.”
If men like that could learn the error of their ways, I wouldn’t have to teach so many of them a lesson.
His face darkens with a mixture of embarrassment and anger—perhaps the most dangerous combination of emotions in a man.
It’s exhausting, being in my head. I wish I could stop thinking. I wish I could be like everyone else.
