“You’re mine now, Ivy. It will be my ring on your finger and my seed in your belly. If you try to run from me again, I’ll lock you up, shackle you to me figuratively and literally to keep you by my side. Don’t push me, baby, because you’ll never win, not against me,” he warns me before licking away my tears. I recognize the fear that courses through me for what it is. I’m not stupid, even as I fight the gravity of him that pulls me in. I know this relationship is the poster child of dysfunctional, but walking away from him is like trying to stop the moon from orbiting the sun. I’m going to
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