Unhinged (Dance With My Demons, #1)

by Steph Macca

What a good fucking girl you are. Spread these pages while you spread your legs. Let all the unhinged, depraved darkness out.

Sometimes you need to cut ties with people… And sometimes those ties are arteries.

What I have learned though is the world is not black and white despite the ignorant, naïve fuckers who live by that philosophy. No, it's many shades of fucked up – and I've been in the grey for a long time.

I'm not a hero though. I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I also don't see the need or pleasure in categorizing myself.

Many people see me as the villain. And to that I say… then I'll be the fucking villain.

math. I cringe, taking my time as I start working through the questions. I've never been good with numbers. I was always distracted at home and in class, so it never had time to click.

"Ahh," he says, nodding. "You want to stab me." "What?" I hiss quietly, taken aback. "I'm not going to stab you." Grey leans back into his chair, relaxing. "But you thought about it. I like that."

I was trapped — forever. I resigned myself to that fact, learning to numb everything. The good and the bad. These were the cards I was dealt, and it was my responsibility to deal with it.

I've spent my entire life watching people from afar. Call it my little social experiment, but I love observing people. It's fun to read people, learning what they think and feel, how their bodies react subconsciously to their surroundings. You can learn a lot about someone from just watching them, even if they try to hide it.

It's unexpected but frankly, I think I might be fucking in love with her.

"I bet you're a really, really … good girl." I wait for it, a sense of victory rolling through me when she jolts ever so slightly against me. There it is I think to myself, smirking. My girl likes a little praise. My guess is no one ever gave her any positive encouragement, so now, she has no idea what to do with it, even though she obviously craves it.

The days drag on, and I'm used to the routine, but profoundly wishing for death some days. Not suicide — just an end to my miserable existence.

'Meet me after dark. I'll collect you. Bring an open mind, little killer.'

But I want to fall, I want to drown in everything about her. I don't care if it kills me. It would be the ending of all endings — a fitting demise for somebody like me. I'd happily go, accepting my fate, if it meant just hearing her say my name one final time.

"Oh, God," she mutters breathlessly. "Fuck. Oh, God." "I'm your God now, little killer. And I'm your fucking Devil too."

And it's at this moment, I realize I'm never letting her go. Now that I've tasted her and heard the sounds she makes when her world falls apart in the best way, she's mine. Avery is fucking mine.

Grey grins at me, leaning down to kiss my cheek, whispering into my ear. "Oh, I'm full of trouble, little killer. The best kind."

"You taste like heaven and hell all in one," he muses,

"You're going to be the death of me, Avery," he mutters, leaning down to kiss me. "And I can't fucking wait."

"You've got to relax, baby girl. Because when I finally claim you with my cock, you're going to take all of me."

"You're mine now," he whispers, increasing the pace of the shiv as it moves in and out of my body. "Your body is my territory, my sweet victory. Together, we'll rule the unhinged, little killer."

I'm a monster compared to her. If you put us side by side, she's a fallen angel and I'm the monster lurking in the shadows.

"Baby girl, stop," he groans, grabbing me. "I didn't call you that because I thought you were a murderer when we met. I called you that because I knew you would be the death of me. But it's a sweet death, one that I welcome."