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November 16 - November 23, 2025
Do you think I am going to die? If I do, can I come stay with you in hell?
I didn’t care that she was a little girl. If I was being honest, it was hot as fuck that she was so young, so fresh, like a blank wall in front of a graffiti artist, I wanted to stripe her in paint, draw her up in anarchy.
I am hyperventilating
“Take a sip of it, little girl. Let’s see how well you swallow the fire down that delicate throat, how you like the burn of it in your belly. I think I might like the sight’a ya with tears in your eyes as you try to take what I give you.”
Loulou Lafayette was mine and she had been since she was seven years old whether it was fucked or not.
Definitely fucked, but who am I to judge
I wish I’d known back then that his words would be tested again and again over the next few months and that, in the end, death would stalk me anyway.
“The first seventeen years of my life, I fasted. I kept my body clean and my spirit pure. Now, I want to feast like a glutton, spread lust on my breakfast toast, shoot violence, and sip greed. And I want you to teach me, sinner man, because you’re the only man for the job,”
“Okay, hold up,” H.R. demanded on a shout. “If we’re all going to be one big modern fuckin’ family we need to make a rule about sex talk. I don’t think my brain can handle knowing what my dad and brother do in bed.”
“A true fallen angel, too bad for heaven, too good for hell, stuck on earth like a living divinity.”
“You’re fucking me,” I breathed. He laughed uproariously again, manic with relief that I was alive and sassing him. “Not yet,” he said like he had the night he’d first touched me at The Wet Lotus, “but I fuckin’ well plan to. For the rest of our fuckin’ lives.”
“Well, you ready to commit yourself to the dark side?”
