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Love is a waterlogged dungeon—airless, lightless, with just enough room to jut your head up for one desperate, strangled breath. It’s a relentless pressure, a submersion that won’t let you resurface, that holds you as if you’re chained to the ocean floor. It crushes you under the weight of its expectations. In this moment, I vow to never fall in love. If love means being disposable, I want no part of it.
Every word makes me feel more disconnected. It’s like watching a movie where I don’t belong, where my character has been mistakenly cast.
He deludes himself thinking I’m the heaven to his hell. We are both made of the same stuff, a myriad of horrors stitched together. "You’re only attracted to me because I am a black hole and you are a monster."
"Monsters are ruthless. We are the unchecked impulse, the whisper in the dark that urges you to leap without looking. We seduce with the promise of forbidden knowledge, of power unbound by the shackles of morality."
It’s been five days since I warned Shadow that I would destroy him, but instead of recoiling like he should have, he murmured against my lips, "Then we shall be destroyed together."
It was a vow, a sentence, a salvation. If one of us burns, we burn together. We sealed it with blood and sex.
"You don’t get it, Shadow. I’m suffocating here. I’m drowning in this skin, in this soft flesh, in this pathetic life. I’d rather risk death in your world than be suffocated by this one. I’d rather die in your world than have you hurt in mine."
"I gave you a chance. I was going to let you go, let you leave me for that human. You’re mine now, Evie," he claims. "I’m yours," I echo. "And I’ll do with you whatever I fucking want," he snarls.
"Be the monster you claim to be. Let him drown while you drip and ache and suffer. Don't you dare give him mercy yet."
