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The worst part about wondering whether you’d started to lose grip on reality was that no one could talk you out of it. Once you’d begun to toy with the very fabric of your own sanity, all you could do is grab a sled and slide down that steep slope like the Devil himself was on your back.
When someone floods your mind with an idea day after day, you start to wonder if maybe they’re onto something. What if they see you better than you see yourself? So, you stay hidden, hoping no one else will notice who you truly are.
“That depends: do you want to be safe or desired? You can’t have both with me.”
“Yes,” I answered, giving him exactly what he wanted, unsure if it was out of fear or because I enjoyed it every time he praised me for doing what he liked. It satisfied a piece of me I didn’t know existed, a piece that needed someone’s approval, someone to say I was doing enough.
The only magic that existed was the kind you created on your own. The universe always answered yes; you just had to make sure you asked the right questions. Until people truly understood the weight of that, they would stay trapped in their self-created prison, unable to grant themselves the simplest form of manifestation.
They exploited those struggling with mental illnesses and addictions by selling their medications, drinks, and drugs at an unreasonable price, rendering them unable to purchase any other necessities, keeping them in that unending cycle of poverty, constantly crushed by the wheel of demand. They called it inflation, but when did eating become a luxury?
“Do you like it?” he asked, though his eyes didn’t open. “I don’t understand it,” I said honestly. “But it’s beautiful.” “That is exactly how beautiful things should be. But be careful, because they are the ones that hurt the most.”
“This. You. All of you.” I exhaled. “What if it damns me?” “What if it heals you?”
“What do you want from me?” I asked, unsure where I’d conjured the strength to find the words inside of me. “Everything,” he said, shaking his head, like he couldn’t believe I didn’t already realize it. “I want everything you can give me, including the air in your lungs. I want your blood. I want your life. I want your fucking death, Romina.” He squeezed my breast before pressing his lips against mine once more. “Will you give it to me?” “Yes,” I whispered, sealing an agreement heavier than a deal with the Devil himself.
When she said she felt a pull to me, I knew I was fucked, because I’d felt that same pull, and I’d cut my hand off to bet the Escuras knew exactly what I was talking about. It was intoxicating to be around her, and when she wasn’t around, she occupied every thought in my head.
She was the kind of beautiful that broke your fucking heart, and now I knew why. A girl like her was the kind of light the world snuffed out the first chance it got.
In that bell tower, I’d spent every day feeling like I was waiting for something—waiting for my life to start, waiting for someone to hand me my story. With them, I was being handed the pen and being told to write it. With them, I wasn’t waiting anymore. I was living.
I’d learned much over the last few weeks, enough to know that magic existed everywhere and that words were spells. Once casted out of our mouth, they could conjure all sorts of hell or blessings into the world.
Maybe in the end, that’s what love was: forgiveness. Undeniable, unsolicited, and at times, unrequited. It was the ability to look past the pain despite all the hurt it could cause you, because in the end, you knew it could do the same for you. If that wasn’t love, maybe this was as good as it got for someone like me.
“A man’s biggest weakness is knowing they’ll never have something they want.”
“I don’t like you, Pet,” he told me again, and I tensed from the wound he kept picking at until it threatened to fester and rot. “Because liking someone is an immature feeling. It’s simple, and there’s nothing about you that’s simple, Romina Black. Like doesn’t come close to how I feel about you, you fucking stubborn little shit.” He stopped for a moment, as if he was being careful of what would come out next. “I’m fucking lost over you. I don’t know who I am when you’re not around, and I’m so addicted to you that you’re all I dream about. You’re all I fucking think about every second of the
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“That’s how you know it’s love: when it’s painful to exist outside of that person. When breathing becomes a chore when they aren’t around,”
Her love was wild. It was sharp and full of edges, and I often found myself on the bloody end of her blade.
I knew now that the only true way to live was to experience every ounce of bliss Sonny Santorini could wring from my body. It didn’t matter if there was a heaven or a hell because the greatest pleasure and the greatest pain was here on Earth, with them.
I could feel it inside me, the same feelings I’d always had for them, but there was no doubt in my heart. I was theirs and they were mine, sealed in blood, cum, and something like faith.
