In Love with the Devil

by Sky Blu

To be clear, I would never wish any part of this story to be real. The situations described here are NOT for the faint of heart.

The way Sky wrote the CW is one of the best that I’ve ever read. This is just the very start.

Before you judge, please keep in mind that some of us have to read and write fiction with horrible scenes to escape and heal from horrible realities.

This was my second highlight…in the CW. Which has NEVER happened before. I cannot even stress this enough. I have felt seen or heard by authors before when reading, but I felt like Sky literally wrote these words to remind me of the reasons I started reading dark.

I learned early in life not to care what society deems “good” or “evil,” when my mother would beat me to a pulp, accuse me of being the source of all her misery, and throw me in the unfinished basement with rats and roaches every weekend. There is no true right or wrong, it’s all subjective.

What a way to open the book, Sky! I literally paused after reading this and reflected for a few minutes. “There is no true right or wrong, it’s all subjective.” Let that replay a few times in your mind. Say it aloud and actually HEAR it. I never thought about that before. Even in the most awful situations, for whatever the reasons, each party believes they are doing what is necessary. In my past, there were people who believed that my being “disciplined” was considered “right.” I considered that “discipline” wrong. And if I were to post a poll around the world, there would be people on both sides. It is subjective. It doesn’t mean that the “discipline” which is considered something much worse, was right in any way, shape or form. *** My only point is, that I very much felt that Sky wrote this from a place of very raw understanding and I’m so grateful for authors like her that are willing to be so brave to do so.***

My darkness filled my vision with red on the daily, tensing my body with a rage that I myself feared.

I thought she was the one. My perfect eternal victim.

When I planted the maximum acreage of poppies—God’s gift to humanity—and gathered all the lab equipment to extract chemicals from them, I told myself I must be bored.

Pretending to be the good guy is slowly pushing me to a psychotic break.

Sometimes, there’s a drop of empathy that makes me hope everything I watch and listen to is fake. I guess those are my good days, but most of the time, the notion of it being real is what calms me. It’s the only thing that keeps everyone around me safe.

Oh, pretty bird, if only you knew the predator who’s admiring your lovely colors.

MINE.

My darling … suffering, terrified, and panting, for me.

I’ve never killed, but I will kill for her.

God, he’s beautiful. His piercing light-blue eyes stole my breath. This has never happened to me before. When our gazes met, it was as if a solar flare crossed my galaxy and changed everything. In an instant, I’d forgotten who I was, what I was supposed to be doing, or what I’d do with the rest of my life. It took everything not to hug and kiss him. As if we’d met in another life.

He could have been a nerd in high school, but there isn’t a speck of awkwardness about him. No, he looks like someone who’s used to getting what he wants. Of course, I’ve met many guys with blue eyes and black hair, but … it’s the intensity and seriousness in his gaze, in his posture. A tremble sweeps through me while picturing him.

Get yourself together, Tory. He’s not your boyfriend, and there’s no way he’s into you.

The last thing I remember is how he looked at me as if I actually mattered. No man has ever looked at me like that.

She needs me.

“I’m never going to let you go. I’m never gonna stop, my sweet girl.”

I’ve never kissed anyone else, not even Molly.

She always assumed the worst with me. It kills me that she can’t be more affectionate and open.

“You liked him!” “No,” I respond loudly, but my cheeks burn. I liked him way too much. “Yes.”

Being the way I am means I have no one I can be myself with. Everything I do, everything I say, it’s all a facade.

I’m willingly drunk on her.

I need to forget and set her free from me.

Strength and determination define my sweet little bird.

Now I remember who Mindy is. She’s the kind of attractive woman who most men fall for. She ticks all the boxes physically.

Despite her attempt at hiding her curves, my little bird’s beauty oozes through the bad fashion choices.

It’s not what society would approve of, but society approves of a lot of fucked-up things, so it can go fuck itself.

Honey, I’m home. The joke makes me chuckle.

It takes the strength of a million gods to resist taking what’s mine.