Distorted (Alabaster Penitentiary, #1)

by Nyla K.

This book is dedicated to anyone brave enough to embrace your issues… Courageous enough to dance with your demons. Here’s to the beautiful deformities in us all.

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.” —Sade Andria Zabala War Songs

I don’t even think I would know what love looked like if it smacked me in the face.

Same

“You don’t need to ask me for anything, Luscious,” he rumbles, gaze cutting into me like goddamn razors. “I’ll give it to you, regardless.”

I don’t want him to know some twisted part of me enjoyed some part of what just happened. I don’t know which part… It started out as the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but my body rarely reacts the same way my mind does.

Maybe we’re two mangled, jagged pieces who could click together, despite all the fires burning around us.

I want Dascha Reznikov to be my broken toy, in all ways. And I have a habit of getting what I want, especially when it’s the thing that could be my untimely demise.

I don’t like to think about all the problems I have. Denial works much better. It’s like a warm, cozy blanket that protects you from the cold, unforgiving hands of the unknown. Self-awareness is overrated.

Same

He’s Satan. That’s who he is. I’ve been fucking around with Lucifer himself.

I start walking away but Darcey’s voice catches me. “Dash…” I turn over my shoulder. “Just because we’re broken, it doesn’t mean we need them to put us back together.”

I am what you are. You are mine.

“Cock cages and liars and fools.” “Oh my,”

I feel sort of complete… Like a piece of myself I never knew was missing has been snapped in.

“We’re in Tulum, Mexico on July tenth. My name is Kellan Kemper, and your name is Dascha Reznikov. Do you understand?” Blinking at him, I nod, comforted at knowing this is real, too. He’s doing this for me… Making it real. “Dascha… I love you,” he says, his thumb brushing the tattoo on my wrist. “I’ve never been in love before and yet I knew I loved you the second I saw you. I want to be here for you, and I don’t give a flying fuck what you’ve done. The world isn’t black and white, especially not with you. You’re a prism of color, reflecting every beautiful thing back, and I never want to let that go. Baby, I think…” He pauses to clear his throat, “I think you may suffer from Schizophrenia. But I don’t want you to be scared, okay? Because it doesn’t matter, that’s the point. It doesn’t matter what you think is damaged in your brain, Dash, because I want to fix it. Baby, if there’s any sort of wound inside you, then I’ll be your tourniquet.” He breathes out hard and lifts my wrist to place a kiss on the ink. “Let me. Please.”

And honestly, I don’t give a fuck if he isn’t real now. I wouldn’t even care. Because all the moments with any version of Officer Kemper are a blessing to me. Real, fake, hallucination, hologram, fucking monkey in a person suit. It really doesn’t matter. I love him. He’s the best symptom of whatever crazy lives in my head.

Of course I’ll do anything for him, without a single hesitation. He says jump and I don’t even ask how high? I just fucking jump, because he’s my man; the other half of my person.

Dash is my entire world. The fact that he’s a Schizophrenic criminal has never been an issue for me because in my mind he’s just Dash. The love of my life.

“I wanna marry you,” he kisses the words across my skin, giving me chills all over. Elation rushes through me, thrilling and warm and fucking colorful; everything that Kemper is. “Then marry me,” I grin, taking his hands in mine to lace our fingers. “‘Kay,” he breathes, and I laugh.