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Not while I’m still breathing; my girl has potential.
Does she know I used to press my palms against the outside of that door, put my ear to the wood and close my eyes, just to hear the sound of her? When she cried, I broke. When she screamed, I shattered.
“Better, maybe, but not like me. Nobody will love you the way I do, Bernadette Blackbird.”
“We might live in the dark, but that doesn't mean we're not allowed to enjoy the moonlight.”
“Not once.”
My Havoc Boys.
Mine.
“Then fuck me before you go over there.”
“Or … fucking? Have I been dipping my dick into the sweet waters of a pussy that isn’t yours?”
“Oh, by the way …” I pat the car with the palm of my left hand. “I’m touching your car. Victor told me to never, ever touch your car.”
“If you were anybody else, I’d break your hand for touching my baby.”
These are my boys. Mine.
This is it for me, my endgame.
He’s built like a dark god, and I’m here to worship on my knees.
This man killed two people today.
To be fair, I haven’t looked my age for a long time. Pain and loss and violence, those things worm their way into your eyes; they change a person.
“You cheeky cunt,”
“If you’re a good girl, you don’t get it at all. Now, if you’re a bad girl …”
“You can have it at three a.m.,”
“The witching...
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“I guarantee she will; she’s just as bloodthirsty as the rest of us.”
I feel a solidarity with them. Blood in, blood out.
“Victor, please repeat after me. I, Victor Channing, am an asshole who in no way deserves Bernadette Blackbird, but who, through some strange fault of the universe, will be marrying her today. I will bleed for her; I will die for her. I agree to marry her.”
