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To everyone who never believed in fairy tales because they understood the villain.
When the devil can’t reach you, he sends a drunk, entitled man.
That ominous and painful thing inside of her that scratches and bites? The one that scares her? I want it to leave marks on me.
The way he says my name is like sinners who plead hallelujah. It rolls off his tongue, a prayer that he savors, letting it linger on his lips.
The man who they said was a soundless void possesses a voice that turns me inside out. Apparently, my pussy is voice-activated.
“Nothing I can ever give you will resemble love, Silas.” “Then I’ll pretend.”
She has me, and she doesn’t even realize it, so consumed with trying to keep me at bay that she doesn’t know I want her pain. I want her screaming hurt and aching rage. That person she hides from the world, the one she fears in the mirror. I want her.
“You’re in control of a monster, Hex. Whatever you need, it’s already yours.”
“He gets close again?” He pauses, making eye contact with me. “I put a bullet in him with the gun I used to fuck your cunt with.”
Your body isn’t yours—it’s mine. It’s my temple to worship and mine to fucking destroy.”
I’ll wreck, ruin, and demolish everything she knew before and fall to my knees in worship at the beauty of what she rebuilds herself into.
They say The Hollow Boys are pure darkness, rotted evil. Those people have never loved one of them. Never peeked beneath the veil and saw just how blinding the light beneath is.
“We steal. We burn. We bleed. We promise that no matter what, we make our way back, even in death.”
Love is wicked that way. It's all consuming and full of so much hope it makes you believe you can outrun death, that you can catch forever if you hold on tight enough.
Full and overflowing with her, I'll meet death with a thank you and a favor. My favor will be this–give my soul a head start next go around. She's stubborn and hard as fuck to catch.