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Why is it that we’re fucking saints the moment we die?
No amount of holy water could cleanse my soul, and I’m okay with that because when I sinned, I understood that I would one day have to pay.
Now, I’m not a religious person. Obviously. But I do know this. When I am damned to hell, it’ll be because I fucking earned it.
I’m not surprised, considering she burned a body and crushed the bones with a hammer. I like her creativity. It’s sexy.
She was built for a man like me—a savage.
“I wanna make you a beautiful, broken doll, Austin.”
even a white rose has a black shadow.
“Even the devil catches feelings, or he wouldn’t go into rages. Even he knows how to love.”
“And you’ve always been the kind of guy who would burn this town down if given a reason.” She sits back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. She smiles at me. “And Austin is your reason.”
We’re like the devil is to sin. Without one, we wouldn’t have the other.
She’s sick. She’s twisted. She’s fucking perfect.
