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One day, everything you know, everyone you love will cease to exist. I will be all you have left to turn to,”
I am not jealous. I am possessive over what is mine.”
“You cannot fuck me every time you don’t want to confront your feelings for me.” “Can’t I?”
“I have given enough. I have lost enough. I am not going to lose you, too.”
“I love you, Witchling. For everything you are and everything you are not.”
She was the instrument, and I was the conductor. Our song was one of pain and ecstasy, but it was ours all the same.
