Scarlet Angel (Mindf*ck, #3)

by S.T. Abby

Just like that, I have my answer. And I watch with her as the Boogeyman dies by his own knife. At the hands of a woman. The hands of a victim. In a way, it’s poetic justice.

“I love you too, Lana Myers,” he says so softly. And in that moment, I’m completely his. There’s no revenge; there are no deaths staining my hands. I’m just a girl in love with a man who’s destined to hate me when he learns the truth.

And it’s devastatingly tragic; more so than any Shakespearian play ever was.

Romantics always believe in revenge, because romantics love harder, suffer loss more painfully, and hold onto a grudge that has shattered their hearts. Their hearts are of the greatest importance, above all else—body, soul, or mind.

It’s everything I need and more. He’s everything I wish I could be. A hero. A hero loved by a monster.

you give me a reason to want to live instead of just exist. You accepted every piece of me, and dealt with the scraps I could offer.