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I wanted to tie her to me in every way possible, short of infusing our bodies together like some fucked-up version of Frankenstein.
We could have played rock paper scissors to decide who gets to marry her, even if I'd be awfully tempted to chop off their hands to win by default.
Fuck him with a cactus and one of Grey's shivs.
Fucking machines and IVs. The only thing that should be attached to my body is her—permanently, if I had my way.
"A surprise is a gift, Grey. Like a box of chocolates. Not a whole ass damn marriage."
"Respectfully, shut up. Your husband is fucking you right now."
Scars fade and bruises heal, but mentally? You can't escape that pain. It lingers long after the physical touches are gone.
Life's a bitch, pumpkin. And that bitch is Grey."
Our monsters don't deserve our pain. And they sure as fuck don't deserve our tears.
