The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

“Of course you aren't scared of me. I'm not the wolf. You are.” So that's what was hiding behind the curtain. I wish you'd told me

In her mind, it was ride-or-die. He knew all her dark little secrets, was allowed right into the center of her black little soul.

“You do. I've long since accepted what we are. Crazy. Fucked up. Murderers.

He didn't even think of himself as a killer. He just didn't like obstructions, and human beings were little more than moving obstructions at the best of times.

She'd spoken the truth, and the truth was not meek. It was bold and it was brash, it knocked down doors and bellowed through hallways.

So what'll it be? Exist on a higher plane from mere mortals and be crazy? Or retain some sanity and live amongst the flat people of the

“Just trust me. Trust us, and you'll get everything you want,”

Con had been right to stay away those three years. They had no self-control when they were together, they indulged each other. It was too much. At the rate they were going, they really would destroy each other, and she couldn't allow that too happen.

“You think I'm crazy. You think we're crazy, that what's going on between us is crazy,”

I'll hurt for you. I'll bleed for you. All you have to do is ask.”

“Crazy people have it easy – they don't know they're crazy. Being fully aware of how fucked up you are? That's the worst.

You saw right through me, even before I could see myself. You saw through the blacks and the reds and you saw this beautiful horror, these terrifying dreams, and you just loved them. You knew me.