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The bitch in front of me smirks, thinking she’s somehow won since the king’s come to the rescue. Doesn’t she know how kings work? A rescue means a price, a price turns into a favor, a favor becomes your moment of shame. Shame is what ruins you. But if he’s the king coming to her rescue ... maybe she’s his queen.
Some call it compassion, I call it manipulation.
She looks like a project princess.
You’re this lethal ass combination of girl they never knew they wanted to be until now but couldn’t match if they tried.”
“That your boy wants to fuck me? Negative. It’s natural, all part of how the male brain works. They see something they like, and everything goes triggery and a big fat neon sign blinks in their heads, flashing ‘mine’ ‘mine’ ‘mine’ over and over again.”
The kind of anger a parent can cause never really goes away, it grows like mold from the inside, testing to see if we’re strong enough to clean it out.
But my armor is strong, my mind and body built on defense alone, and self-preservation allows for no safe passage.
“Think of it like this - you guys like order. It’s like you need your normal so you don’t go crazy, but me? I need crazy to feel normal.”
“Look, if you find yourself between a rock and a hard place, needing to throw blows or something, find me. Don’t ruin what might be a good thing.” “What makes you think I would?” “That punch had nothing to do with Victoria. You self-sabotaged.” Her eyes bounce between mine before shifting the three heads our way. She looks back to me. “I do it too. It’s natural for girls like us.” Girls like us.
