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‘Both of us have a lot of feelings we need to get out in the open. So if you want to take those feelings and smash somebody with them, smash me. Then we can understand each other better.’”
he’s the type who’d say, ‘How do you read this shit? There are no pictures in it.’
When I grow old and my memory starts demanding to delete files to be able to remember others, I’d choose her stupid journal over books by philosophers and psychologists any day.
part of my sickness is her. My Butterfly. My chaos.
something inside me died and I knew I’d never be able to get it back.
I’m good at moving on. At pretending.
Just because you don’t look under the bed, doesn’t mean the monster isn’t there. He is. Waiting. Biding his time for the right moment so he can come out and play.
“Happy birthday, Butterfly,” he whispers against my ear. “You’re now mine.”
“Here’s the thing, Butterfly, I can’t stop.” “Why not?” “Because you’re my chaos, and I can’t survive without chaos.” “I’m chaos?” “The worst of all. The most beautiful of all. And you know what? You might as well be the deadliest.”
“I hate you,” I tell him. He smiles as his lips brush against my temple and stay there. “Not as much as you want me, Butterfly.”
What’s the point if I can’t have the only one for me?
My chaos. My damnation.
“Well, here’s the thing, Butterfly.” He leans over and brushes his lips against my nose. “I don’t mind self-destructing if it’s with you.”
Your pain is my pain, Butterfly.”
you know, sometimes it takes a loss to realise who you really want to be with.”
She doesn’t open her eyes. She doesn’t respond. That day, the doll dies.
“I thought you hated me.” “That was my way of saying I love you.”
“She’s so pretty.” “Not bad for Cole’s spawn.”
“Don’t listen to your Uncle Cole, Eli. If you want his daughter, go for it. I’ll support you.”
Silver is mine and I’m hers. In the past. In the present. In the future. Always.
