Mean One

by Ab. Cynthe

my childhood clinging to me as if it were my shadow.

“Easy, freckles,” I stated, honestly impressed.

We’d terrorized people before, but killing them? Oh, that was a whole new level of intimacy. It almost felt as good as sex with him. Almost.

Perfectly wicked… What a beautiful thing to be called.

“We are one and the same, he and I; two souls stitched together in the shadows of our pain. The world hated us, and in that rejection, we found each other.”

She was batshit crazy, but she was mine. All mine. And in this moment, all I wanted to be was hers.

“You’re a fucking drug, Max. A toxic and wicked habit.”

Even now, I felt the same as I did that day. I may work in the brothel and fuck these men for money, but my heart was and would always be his.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I do. I fucking love you, freckles. You’re crazy and beautiful and a fucking mess, just like me. You annoy the shit out of me and piss me off more than anyone else… but God, I fucking love you. All of you. Just don’t leave me. Ever.

“Crispin,” she breathed my name. It was the first time I’d heard it in years. Even Max didn’t know it.