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“I hated my father, and a few nights ago, he passed away. He was my biggest demon, my greatest monster, and my living nightmare. Still, with him gone, everything around me has somehow slowed, and I miss the memories that never existed.”
She was all over the place: flighty, random, passionate, and emotionally overcharged. It was as if she was fully aware of her faults, and she allowed them to exist regardless. Somehow those faults made her whole.
“Don’t forget to drink the coffee I brought you that’s sitting on the counter!” I hollered, banging on his door. “It’s black—ya know, like your soul.”
“Ollie, you’re forgetting your flowers,” I called after him. He turned back to me and shook his head. “No, ma’am. A friend of mine asked me to stop in to pick out those for you. I asked him some characteristics about you, and that is the creation that came to be.”
“Have you been drinking again?” I asked. She laughed. “No. This is just me.” “That’s what I was afraid of.”
I rolled my eyes and started walking down the steps. “Professor Oliver?” “Yes?” “Shut up.”
“Loneliness is a liar,” Graham told me, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he spoke. “It’s toxic and deadly most of the time. It forces people to believe they are better off with the devil himself than being alone, because somehow being alone means a person failed. Somehow being alone means a person isn’t good enough. So, more often than not, the poison of loneliness seeps in and makes a person believe that any kind of attention must stand for love. Fake love that is built on a bed of loneliness will fail—I
Will you marry us?
