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Fear governs our life—that soul-sickening dread of loss. Once we’ve obtained our perfection, anxiety creeps in like the demonic force it is to steal our light.
Death at my lover’s hand. The ultimate reward and punishment for our perfection. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect ending.
And I am lured. Completely. She owns my entire being. Flesh and bone. My black soul belongs to her. With one look, she takes me down. If she demands I kneel right here, I’ll drop to my knees, offer penance for my sins as I plead for her to devour me.
We can be free. Free to experience every beautiful sensation that was denied to the both of us.
Freedom is always the end goal. For everyone, always.
Once I shed every lie, severed every anchor weighing me down, it was like being reborn. I walked through the embers of one life to another; a new start. A new woman—one who no longer fears the dark corners of her mind.
Freedom: step one.
There is some unique chemistry between Grayson and I that can’t be summed up with blanket terminology or compared to love. It defies reason.
**hearteyes**
“I never knew how enjoyable touching could be.”
As a person wifh psychopathic tendencies, this line HITS.
The danger lies in whether or not we’ll survive each other.
We’re an endless abyss, demanding replete gratification, our disease our enemy. We’re afflicted with an insatiable hunger.
He doesn’t ask—he doesn’t need to; the question of whether I’m aroused by our kill is answered as he tastes me, my body giving him proof where words fail.
We’re beyond simple communication. Our desire only answered in raw, carnal flesh and blood.
“I’m in love with you, Grayson. I’m not incapable of love…I’ve just never been inspired before now. And I don’t want to be separated from you again.”
Love and obsession are so closely linked, the emotions evoked by obsession easily mistaken for love. And when obsession rules your world, you become a slave to its demands.
eye witness accounts are often unreliable.
Love—that all-consuming love artists pen sonnets about—is a short-lived emotion.
That’s what Grayson and I are: a wildfire. We’ll burn through each other until our resources are expired.
“If it’s affecting you, we make time.”
*swoon*
In a fit of emotive overload, Grayson could profess his love or kill me with an equal measure of indifference. Both would satisfy his overstimulated state, and return him to his comfort zone.
It’s more than trust—it’s dependence. We can no longer survive without each other.
We were not born the day we took our first breath. We were born the moment we stole it.
Black or not, dead or not…my heart beats because of her.
It’s like I’m lovesick, belting ballads at her window. Or burying her alive… Which for us, is a clear affirmation of devotion. Not many possess that kind of dedication, that level of commitment, to their significant other.
“I’ve missed you, London, but not the brain cramps that come with having you as a friend.”
Fear is more powerful than love. Gods have no compassion. That’s how they’re able to slaughter the multitudes.
Someone has to wield that fear, that power. And those who are too weak to stomach the natural order can only hide and judge from their safe corners. We are gods, and we must be feared.
She’s always been my goal, my purpose—even before I fully realized it for myself.
From the moment I placed my hand in Grayson’s on that roof, everything has been my choice. I wondered when it was that the dynamic between us was established…and now I know. It was then. Right then. Amid our Folie à deux—our madness shared by two—I am the dominant. It has always been me.
Even if my mother’s illness doesn’t claim me, my love for London might.
Endings suck. Why shouldn’t they? We’re sad when life ends. We’re disappointed when something good comes to an end. No one wants an ending; we’re designed to want to last forever. So very difficult to bring an end to something brilliant that’s taken a lifetime to build.
Because I know, if that day ever comes, London won’t fail me. She’ll give us the tragic ending we truly deserve.
There is no good and evil, only the time spent between both heaven and hell, where we find our peace.
