The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

It had to be done,” he assured her. She stared at him through her tears. Stared at those blue, blue eyes. “But I wanted to tell you I love you,” she whispered. Finally. Now it can't poison me anymore. “Ah,” he breathed, and his Cheshire grin was back in place. “Now, Dulcie. Now we can finally be together.” She smiled back at him and nodded. Then he stabbed her again.

“We shine like stars, little girl,” he agreed, his fingers moving alongside hers.

It took that stab to get you to admit you love me,” he reminded her. “It needed to be said in blood,” she whispered. “Well, you certainly gave a lot that night.” “That's how much I love you.”

Even after a year. Even after fires and murders and dwelling in darkness, loving in darkness, kissing him still felt exactly the same as it had when she was seventeen years old. Like all her favorite things, rolled into one. Like every dream, every nightmare, she'd ever had. Still feels like that fairy tale.