Love was an emotion, one I had reserved for as little number of people as possible. But it was also a choice, one I had actively avoided making for as long as I could remember. Perhaps it looked different to everyone. Sweet nothings whispered in an ear, gifts and laughter and promises and secrets. Grand declarations under the stars. Stolen touches and heated looks, the feel of skin beneath your fingertips and passion that burned the world down. And those were all true, I imagined. But to me…love was a dagger pressed to a throat in the middle of a hidden hallway. Sharp tongues and writhing
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