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He needs me. He needs to exert his power over me because his love has made him powerless. He needs me begging because his love has made him a beggar himself. The lust he feels for me comes from the love he feels for her.
“This is what I think about,” he bites. “It doesn’t even matter if you’re around. This. Bursting every door down so I can get to your pussy. All I can think about is fucking you, Layla. All the time. Every time. You’re in my fucking blood, and I’ll tear apart anyone who dares to fucking touch you.”
“You bring them back…my words.”
Loving myself means fighting for myself, fighting for my sanity, and I will fucking fight.
“With you, I feel
that I’ve never had any feelings before, like it’s the first time I’m feeling anything at all. Do you know how terrifying that is?” He shakes his head and answers his own question. “It’s very terrifying. I have so many things I want to say to you that I end up saying the wrong thing. I’m so scared of taking the wrong step that I never move at all. I don’t know why I do that. I don’t know why I keep fucking things up when it comes to you, but all I can say is you make me feel like…I’ve never taken a breath before, like I’ve never lived before.”
that bravery is not the absence of fear, but the courage to do something despite it—taking that first step despite the danger of falling, creating a piece of art knowing that people might not appreciate it. Bravery is like falling in love. You don’t know if the person will reciprocate, but still you fall.
