I’d choose Hell each time if it meant experiencing this feeling with him. This euphoria. I refused to think of darkness and evil deeds. Tonight I’d focus on the way our bodies created the closest thing to Heaven I could imagine here on earth. I’d tried doing the correct thing: I’d pushed him away and my heart had torn in two. I was tired of denying what felt right. He and I were two pieces of our own private puzzle—we fit together perfectly. If that made us wicked, wanton things, so be it. I gladly accepted my fate.
