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I was always told that once the devil calls ya by name, it’s best to walk straight up to the door to hell and face it.
We are locked together, the predator and his prey, silence stretching between us while I wait for him to pounce. Time blurs. The only thing that exists is him.
“That’s the beauty of this place. Whatever happens here, the bayou won’t never tell...and neither will I.”
“So, now you get to rebuild.” I kiss her hair. “I know it feels impossible, but you do it one step at a time, and one day you’ll look back and be so damn proud of who you’ve become. I already am.” “I don’t have the strength for that.” “So, you borrow mine. I’m here, ‘til you find your own.”
She’s got this thing every night, where she thanks me for finding her...for saving her. What she don’t understand, is she saved me first. She saved me when she walked through my damn door and turned my world upside down, and on the RV when she let me know I wasn’t alone. Then she saved me again six weeks ago, when she came back here for me.

