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My mom always said I was into bad guys. I doubt she knew I’d grow up to be into ones who clearly had psychological problems. The ones you don’t tell God about when you pray at church to forgive your sins—the ones with dark backstories and baggage.
“What God? Tonight, you only scream and cry for me. No God will bear witness to what I make of you.”
They can make fun of me all they’d like. It’s me who’s going to be saving their asses in the field. If they want to call me Bunny, then I’ll be the most vicious little creature they’ve ever crossed.
Hatred and desire aren’t so different. Both are an obsessive, all-consuming emotion. It’s a thin line to walk on.
She might think I broke her tonight, but it’s she who has broken me.
“So why would I punish you? You’re just the weapon fired, not the evil that wields it.”
“You are where my sanity starts,” he murmurs gravely, his jaw setting and brows knitting. He hates to admit these things to me—that much is obvious. But it warms my chest that he shares it with me anyway. “You are where mine ends,”
“There is no life without you. There wasn’t one before, there sure as fuck won’t be one after,” he whispers. His eyes narrow with misery. “I love you, Bunny.”
“Impossible.” I take her hand and press it against my heart. “You feel that, Bun? It only beats for you.
“Promise me forever, Bun. You’re where my sanity starts.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “You are where mine ends.”
