Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)

by J.M. Darhower

To Princess Leia, the most badass woman in all of the galaxy… you’ll always be royalty to us.

“If you give the monster a name, it takes away its power, because we’re really just afraid of what we don’t know. If you name it, if you know what it is, you can be stronger than it. So face your fears and wipe your tears, remember? Face your fears and wipe your tears.”

But the gut? The gut knows. The gut remembers. You should always listen to it.

Don’t listen to that ‘fuck what people think’ Sesame Street bullshit they spoon-fed you as a kid. You should care what people say about you. Rumor and gossip... it matters. Because while you might be proud of your character, while you might be the kind of person who doesn’t yield, it doesn’t mean a damn thing if the jackass coming up behind you believes you’re getting out of his way, because he’s just going to run you over.

the key to survival is mimicry. You be what you need to be for somebody. Wear the skin of a rattlesnake even if there’s not a single drop of venom inside of you, because if you make them believe, they won’t come close enough to get bit. They won’t get close enough to see that maybe it’s a disguise; maybe you’re not as dangerous as they think.

not everyone needs the same thing, and that’s the trick. You can’t just be all one thing. If you’ve gotta be a monster, you be a fucking shapeshifter.

“Barbie,” I say. “And is Barbie her real name?” Leo asks. “Or is that just what you’re calling her, since she was platinum blonde and plastic?”

Someone once told me that evil can sense itself inside of others, our hearts beating in a different rhythm than most, playing a morbid song that only other evil knows.

You burn a little witch at the stake and she’ll laugh in your face. That shouldn’t turn me on, I know, but fuck if it doesn’t.

I used to think what was meant to be would inevitably find a way, but as the days go by, I start to wonder if maybe I’m just delusional. Maybe things only happen if you force life’s hand. You call life’s bluff and go all in, risking losing everything on the off chance that maybe you’ll win.

Physical pain has nothing on emotional torment.

Death doesn’t always come with a scream and a bang, no… death, when premature, usually comes like a whisper on the wind, quietly stalking you until it can rob you of your last breath.

The hardest part of the business is minding your own.

I’ve got nothing against strippers. Really, I don’t. I’ve got nothing against prostitutes, either. You do you. But I do have something against people who can’t even function without shooting something into a vein, without snorting something up their nostril.

Mind your own business and you’ll live a hundred years. Problem is, you know, a hundred years is a long time. Do I really want to live that long? My curiosity says, ‘I don’t think so’.

But the world can’t comprehend a woman being that strong. We’re supposed to buckle and break, like the only time we can possibly have any strength is if there’s someone with a dick standing by our side. It’s like a penis is a prerequisite for an opinion, so if I don’t have one myself, I’ve got to be utilizing someone else’s in order to have any say-so in my own fucking life.”

There’s a reason girls yell ‘fire’ instead of ‘rape’, why we lie and say we have boyfriends instead of just saying ‘no’ when we’re not interested. Because a lot of men respect another man’s property more than they respect a woman’s right to her own body.

“Mimicry,” he says, swinging around to face me. “You be whoever they need you to be.” Exactly.

Puzzles demand follow-through. You can’t just dick out in the middle of one.

Moments are pieces, formed together and built upon, creating the bigger picture within the border of your world. My puzzle is full of deformed shapes and jagged edges, but it still all fits together in its own twisted way, making a hideous fucking picture of my reality.

“Ammunition is a no-no in my house. You see, bullets don’t come with names on them, which means anyone can catch one, if you pull the trigger, and I can’t get down with that.

If you don’t understand your own motivations enough to not have to take a fucking guess, then we’ve got a problem.”

used to read all these fairy tales, and I just think about how fucked up it is to realize that heroes are make-believe but monsters are real.

I’ve seen love bring a monster back to life before, but most of the time, the monster just loves you to death.”

The world, it’s all in black and white, but you? You’re so many shades of red, woman, and color me curious, but I find myself not so bored with your bullshit around.”

His lips are the softest things about him, warm and gentle, like a slice of heaven wrapped in hell, so worth battling the flames to feel his fire.

“That’s usually how it goes, you know... dying has nothing on the horrors of surviving.”

My brother likes to fuck his girlfriend as she sobs over fictional characters.

“You have to be careful who you give pieces of yourself to, because even a little bit here and there adds up to a hell of a lot eventually, and it’s not worth it, losing yourself to them, giving yourself to people who don’t give a fuck about you. You keep pouring yourself into other people and you’ll just wind up empty.”

when he grows some balls and unblocks his number, because pussies don’t get talked to, they only get fucked.”

it’s always this, always a mask of normalcy they wear with ease.

Do you know what that’s like? To know you’re poison but still be desperate for someone to sip from you anyway?

“I swear to God, if you throw yourself off this roof, I’m jumping after you, and I’m going to catch you.”

“Yeah, well, who’s more foolish... the fool or the fool who follows him?” “Good question, Obi-wan.”