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Jesus Christ. I wasn’t a religious man, but if there was ever a time to believe in God, it was now.
Even when you’re not there, you’re everywhere. In my head, in my lungs, in my fucking soul.
Bridget von Ascheberg was mine and mine alone. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t mine to take. I was taking her anyway, and if I could tattoo myself onto her skin, bury myself in her heart, and etch myself onto her soul, I would.
