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My thoughts are confirmed when he stares at me over his shoulder, his eyes still in tune with the night, tapering and shimmering with that mystic darkness. If anything, they appear more unhinged. “Come back when you’re ready to be fucked properly.”
That dull, maybe not so dull, person has gotten herself the worst type of attention. Mine.
The resident devil of Brighton Island and the reigning Lucifer of TKU.
“You look so innocent, but that head of yours is a fucked-up place, Lisichka. My fucked-up place.”
“Isn’t it exquisite?” His voice is eternally calm, a bit sadistic, and lacks a sliver of emotion. “What have you done?” I whisper in a quivering voice. “Me? I didn’t do anything aside from maybe selling inside intel about the Heathens’ compound to the Serpents and suggesting they start fireworks. Didn’t think they’d listen, but they’re vicious creatures, and their type loves surprise attacks. If they eat each other, guess who comes out on top?”
Cecily is neither. She’s the gray. She’s the colors. She’s every rainbow I never thought to stop and watch.
“No. He’ll have to lose his dignity and his mind, and even that won’t be enough payment for how he made you suffer. He stripped away your power, so I’m confiscating his in return. He’ll be trapped in that prison for eternity without being able to fight his way out. Just like he made you feel trapped in your own body.”
“Because I love him.”
serial killer/gangster/lizard Jeremy.
“I don’t have to either, Papa.” Cecily strokes my arm. “I just like cooking with him.” “That’s called Stockholm syndrome.”
She’ll be my always, and I’ll be hers. Forever.

