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“I think I have this new thing where I pass out at the sight of blood.” “Probably because you’re a cannibal,” Jinx replied.
Hell is paved with the bones of the disloyal.
Xerxes rolled his eyes. “I still hate all of you. I’m doing this for personal reasons.” I scoffed. “Bullshit. You totally think we’re cool.”
Like I was his savior and damnation. His obsession.
Existence fucking hurt.
Xerxes rasped softly, “I want to show you my nest.” My heart skipped a beat. I whispered softly, “Do you lay eggs?”
Serenity wasn’t the absence of conflict; it was the stillness within chaos.
It wasn’t my job to fix someone.
The worst part wasn’t the during; it was the after. Adrenaline got you through the moment, and when it left, nothing tempered the agony. The shock wore off into a tsunami of unfathomable hurt.
There were healthy coping mechanisms, and then there was trying to forget your entire existence.
The prettiest predators were the most poisonous.
