Page 20

Chapter twenty

Damien

The moment I saw her text I stormed out of The Basement. She wouldn’t have texted me that unless she really thought someone was tailing her. If she truly thought it was me, she would’ve yelled at me from down the street for ruining her time with her friend. Her text alone alerted me to the real danger she’s in.

This mother fucker is messing with the wrong woman. I don’t know who he is, but I’m about to find out. A part of me hates her leaving the apartment. I know the dangers that lurk through the city at night, and what happens to a beautiful woman like her. I should’ve taken a couple of hours and followed her there and back. Instead of watching her through the surveillance cameras, I should’ve been outside. The dealer near the Basement could’ve been handled by someone else.

Fuck. I’m making too many mistakes with her. First with allowing Cooper to reach her, and now this.

If I cut down and take Fifth, then run up Jefferson, I should be able to cut him off before they get close to Sixth near the apartment. Who is this guy? Who does he think he is? Threatening my fucking girl? It’ll be the last thing he ever does, and I might just make a spectacle of him to warn anyone else who thinks they can do the same. The threat that DH poses to criminals like him has obviously not been presented greatly enough. I need to find a way to get the message out a different way.

I evolved from walking to sprinting the moment I got off of the phone with her, and as I approach fifth street, I call Carter.

“What’s up, D?” Carter asks as I turn down fifth.

“Hack the street cameras between the Basement and Third, down to Cut Me Down, and edit out my footage.” I demand as I sprint.

“On it. What’s wrong?” I don’t waste time answering and hang up. I can tell him later. If he’s following them for a reason, it won’t be out in the open, and I don’t have time to explain myself to Carter.

I run down fifth to the alley way just before the intersection at Williamson, and I duck into the shadows of where two alleys corner off, so I have a good visual of where she’ll be walking. I stand, watch, and listen.

There are three different sets of footsteps, but only one is close enough to be coming through the alley. Two are ahead, and slightly louder, while the third is further back, but moving at a quicker pace now. Those are definitely his steps.

His footsteps are heavy, and purposeful, though not consistent, as if he’s stumbling or tripping. Much like the second set of steps I hear, and I’m assuming they’re Serena’s. My girl is too smart to get so sloppy and walk around the city like that. She thinks that her survival skills are just paranoia and trauma, but she doesn’t realize how cunning it truly makes her.

I see him now as he approaches the turn off of the alleyway. Skinny, tall, his blown-out veins creating lumps on the skin of his poorly tattooed arms. He’s making his way quickly down the way, my assumption is because he wants to reach the end of the alley before the girls pass it, so he can drag them in. The whites of his eyes are almost completely blacked out by his dilated pupils, and it’s clear that he’s high. Off of what? I can’t tell, but at this current moment it doesn’t matter anyway.

As soon as he turns the corner I step out, wrap my arm around his neck, and hold his mouth shut. Using my strength to keep him immobilized long enough to show him that I’m the one in control now. I look out to the street as the other sets of steps get closer to see my beautiful woman and her snarky friend walk past. Serena is stumbling as she walks, obviously drunk, but Ashia is looking around, paranoid. Scared. Her small shivers showing on her bottom lip, and her eyes can’t focus she’s looking around so much. Igniting the fire deep within my belly.

The worry in her eyes opens the gates to my rage, and the moment she passes the alley, I shove this fuckers head into the bricks next to us. The feeling of his nose breaking rings through his head, so harshly that I can feel it on the back of his skull. He drops, and the weight of her fear pulls me down on top of him. I land blow, after blow to his head, aiming for the most vulnerable points in his facial structure, and ignoring the stinging emitting from my hand. Blood begins to spatter, and the crunching noises just grow louder and louder with every hit.

This piece of shit was going to hurt my little wolf, and I can’t have that.

Normally when I kill, it’s malicious, and rough, but calculated. Sometimes when we take down Dust operations we’re sneaking through warehouses, or open firing when there aren’t any hostages. I used to feel the anger more presently, but now I’ve come to look at Dust like we’re exterminators, just a job, mostly, to keep the people safe. There’s no targeting the individual dealers or manufacturers most of the time, so the joy of killing them isn’t the same. This man? Pure, unhinged, rage is fueling me.

The heat that I long for when I kill is back, and I’m drawing it in with every hit, boiling me to the point of sweat. Ravenously, I withdraw my knife and plunge it into his throat. Soaking in the squelching sound it makes, and although I expected squirming, I realize he’s already dead. The initial blow to the bricks probably forced his nasal bone into his brain, but I was too enraged to notice.

I draw in a deep breath from my carnage, knowing the work is done, and it’s like I need every sense to engulf the slaughter. The sweet crimson smell infiltrates my nostrils. Seeping deep into every fiber of my skin, and the red fog in my vision begins to clear. My chest, however, still feels empty. Like I still can’t catch my breath. I find myself looking back to the street for her, needing to see her. I visualize her in my mind, safe and sound in her apartment. Waiting for me. The thought alone allows my shaking hands to steady, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

Searching in his pockets, I find a pipe, which is freshly used, crack knotted up in a small bag, and a wallet. The ID reads Jeremy Eizner, and there’s a couple of cards with his name on it as well. Normally, this would be enough to confirm someone’s identity, but the knowledge of this man’s drug use makes me believe the wallet could be stolen. Holding the ID up to my victim, I try my best to match the faces. His now caved-in nose, and beaten to a pulp features make that difficult, but most of the shape of his head, hair, and eye color match. So, that’s good enough for me.

I call Carter back, and I’m not shocked when it only rings half a time.

“Send Graham to my location and find me every piece of information on Jeremy Eizner. I want to know if he’s Dust or just a drug addict. Birthdate is December twelfth, nineteen-ninety.”

“Got it. Body or pending?” Carter knows when to handle business and when to ask questions. When we’re not on duty, he’s friendly, humorous, and laid back. While we’re working? Short, to the point, and precise. He also knows not to take things personally. Short conversations or orders don’t offend him. No offense to Kade, but I’d probably keep Carter over him any day of the week.

“Body.”

“Clean up?” He asks, so he can relay what Graham is supposed to do.

“Yes.”

“Dispatching now.” I hang up and pocket my phone back before I drag his body into the shadows. Another urge floods my head, and I just want to run to her apartment and hold her. The bruises from her last attack aren’t even fully healed and this asshole thought she looked like a good target. He took her obvious abuse and wanted to twist it to his advantage. I should have drug out his pain longer, really made him suffer for even thinking of getting near her. But she’s safe, and that’s all that matters to me.

After Graham came and I helped him with the body, I sprinted to her apartment. Not really caring if someone sees me or not. Normally I’d sneak in the back and up the fire escape to the hallway. Playfully evading Serena’s horrible lookout skills, but I didn’t bother this time. I ran right to the front door and up the stairs. I’m now standing at the very top, trying to calm myself before I walk inside so I don’t scare Ashia any further, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to calm down until I see her for myself.

Once I reach her door I go to pick the lock, but I’m surprised when she flings the door open and stares at me. The relieved looking her face probably mirrors my own, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat.

Standing to my full height, I take all of her in. Those hypnotizing, doe eyes, her long dark hair, and even her still trembling, but perfectly plump lips. I go to step inside, but she moves first. Throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face in my chest. The sweet sentiment throws me off a little, sending a new wave of emotions throughout my body, but after a deep inhale, I quickly accept her embrace. Wrapping one arm around her while my other hand moves up to hold the back of her head.

“You’re okay, baby. He’s gone.” I reassure her softly.

“Who was he?” She’s still shaking, the evidence presents in her voice. So, I tighten my grip on her to try and calm her nerves.

“Not sure, Carter’s looking up information on him now.”

“Thank you.” She seems to start to relax, and her breaths even out. I feel my own relief cover my body like a warm blanket, and I just want to drape her in it.

“Always.” I pull back a little and run my finger over her cheek. Losing myself in the softness of her face, but careful not to smear the blood on her. She catches a look at my hand. Her eyes widen lightly, and she reaches up with her own to grab it.

“Damien…” Fuck, the way she says my name gets me hard.

“It’s fine, doesn’t even hurt.”

“You’re bleeding.” She furrows her brows in a worried state.

“So?”

“Should I ask who I'm going to kill?” She asks with that ever-present attitude, but I smile seductively at her. She’s worried about my hands? That sense of empathy towards me is new for her. Even if she tries to mask it with animosity, I see right through her. “Get inside let’s get that cleaned up.”

“Is that an invitation inside?” I joke, recalling her anger for my lack of permission into her apartment.

“You’re such an ass.” I can’t help but laugh and the tweak of her own grin before she masks it with a scowl might be my undoing.

“I'll come inside, but you don’t have to clean me up.”

“You just came to my rescue, again. I can clean your hands.” She grabs my wrist and pulls me inside. Feeling safe enough not to lock the door back. She’ll learn soon enough she never has to feel obligated to do something with me. I would’ve killed the man just because she told me too, she doesn’t need to feel like she owes me anything.

“Where’s Serena?” I ask, curious if the little spit-fire is going to interrupt us.

“Passed out on the couch. She’ll be out the rest of the night. Nothing will wake that bitch up when she’s that drunk.”

“So, she won’t hear me bend you over?” She cuts me a look as we enter her bathroom, and I have to fight the urge to stick my hand out and grasp that pretty jaw to pull her stare closer to me. I lean against the counter, and she begins wiping my knuckles off with a wet cloth. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“You took care of me?”

“Because I wanted to, not because I felt like I had too.” She looks up at me with sadness and realization in her eyes. Her big brown eyes glistening with guilt. I think I actually hurt her feelings by assuming there were ingenuine motives behind her actions.

“I do want to…” She says quietly, barely above a whisper, and I just nod at her. Last night was great, I had woken up the moment she twitched, but I wanted to see if she actually wanted me or if she was just moving in her sleep. Nope. She wanted me. I’ll never tell her that, because she’d never do it again, and she might actually feel embarrassed by her need. Her stubbornness almost outweighs her lust and caring feelings for me.

Almost.

She takes a dry towel and holds it against my knuckles to stop the bleeding. Almost as confidently and accurately as I did with her own hands. She might have learned something from last night besides the introduction to her own desires. She does learn very quickly, and it might be from the years of abuse and neglect, but she also adjusts to change very quickly.

Reaching into the bottom drawer, she grabs the gauze and bandage wraps. My cuts aren’t deep enough to need liquid skin or any other synthetic intervention, but I can see her contemplating it. Is she truly concerned for me? Of course she is. She’s so compassionate and kindhearted. I could slaughter children in front of her, and she’d never completely hate me. I’d never do that, but she’d probably even find it hot eventually. She thinks Anakin Skywalker is the sexiest character out there and look at what he did.

“Don’t worry little wolf, I'll still be able to make you come tonight.” She looks up to me, cheeks flooding red and she’s trying not to grin.

“Believe it or not, that’s not my only concern.” She shakes her head in tight movements, as if she’s taunting me. I do believe that. She’s a very caring woman, and she’s being quite tedious with my hands. I can’t point out the fact that she cares yet. She’ll withdraw herself after, and we’d have to start this cycle over again. It is nice to see her, and her not immediately go into defensive mode. Perhaps a change of subject to the annoying woman on her couch will ease things.

“Your friend doesn’t really like me, does she?” Not that I give a shit, but she does. Ashia keeps her eyes on my hands, purposely not reacting to my statement. She doesn’t want to tell me what her friend thinks. She actually doesn’t talk to me about Serena, and I know she does it intentionally.

I’ve read their messages, and while she doesn’t say a whole lot about me, her friend has said enough. She clearly doesn’t like me with Ashia, but that begs the question of why hasn’t she done anything to try and stop me?

“Her opinion matters to you?” I ask curiously. She lifts those gorgeous, puppy brown eyes and looks at me.

“Not necessarily her opinion. I can form one of my own. It’s her support that matters to me. She is very important to me. I know she’s demanding, and hard to deal with sometimes, but she’s my best friend. She’s been with me through everything, and is one of the few people to never abandon me. She’s practically my sister. If you want me, then she comes with me.” Her tone turns stern, but only slightly before her face softens again. “Just try to warm up to her? For me?” Fuck that almost steals the breath from my lungs. How am I supposed to resist her hypnotizing eyes? The one thing she’s actually asked of me, how can I say no?

“Okay.” That sweet smile fidgets at the corner of her mouth as she finishes with my hand. She’s slowly finding out that she loves getting her way. It’s not often she does, and she doesn’t know how to accept things that are given to her, either physically or emotionally. She has no idea how much I plan on spoiling her. “It’s her warming up to me that might be the problem.”

“Well, our…situation, is a little out of the box.” My face distorts into a tight agitation.

“Situation?”

“Well, I don’t know what else to call it.” I reach up with my hand and grab her chin before slowly dragging her close to my face. Close enough to where she can feel my desire for her on my breath.

“You’re mine, Ashia, and no one else’s. You can call it a relationship or put whatever label you want on it. Girlfriend, future wife, hell you want to get married tomorrow? Wouldn’t bother me. I don’t just want you for sex. I want every piece of your body, mind, and soul, and I'll have it. Our souls are intertwined, and they will be until heaven and hell separate us, but even then I'll come for you. So, if it helps you to put a label on it, then go right ahead. Because if that’s what it’s going to take for this to stop feeling like an option to you, then so be it.” She stares into my eyes, and from the dilation in her pupils, she can see just how fucking serious I am.

“I would rather claw out my own eyes than see you look at another man the way you look at me. Plunge a knife in my ear rather than hear you say another man’s name. I want to be the only one you think of, and the only man that knows how to make your knees weak with need. The only man you see in your dreams should be me, and I want to be the only one that brings that sweet smile to your face.” I take a deep breath, inhaling her intoxicating vanilla aura. “I’d rather die than have another man make you smile.” Her eyes tug at my heartstrings every time I look at them, and just glancing at her smooth face and lips makes my chest feel heavy. Especially when they look at me so endearingly like this. “Fuck, you are gorgeous.” Her eyes soften, and I realize that she’s not sure how to respond to that.

Has no one told her how beautiful she is before? From what I know so far, probably not, and if they did it was because they wanted something from her or just wanted to try and fuck her. Her breath hitches as she finally comes up with a response.

“Well, we’re definitely not getting married tomorrow, and I certainly don’t need a label.” She forces out with heavy breath. I wonder how hard it was for her to push that attitude along. Little does she know, her attitude gets me hard.

“Girlfriend it is then.” I grab her wrist and pull her into the bedroom and shut her door. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel my cock straining against my zipper. The urge to jerk her up and throw her on to the bed comes barreling in like a runaway truck, but I compose myself. “Take off your clothes.”

“What if I don’t want too?” Her ever-present battle between wanting me and pushing me away continues in her head. Why does she like torturing herself like that? Does she get off on the thrill? The unknown? Does her mind reject it because of her past?

“I could rip them off and prove how badly your body wants me to fuck it.” I slowly step up to her again, unable to resist the urge to adjust my straining dick. “I bet your cunt is glistening, waiting for my cock.” I see her slight shutters and her breath hitch. I'm right. Of course I'm right, I know my little wolf’s body better than she does. Her body loves to be commanded, and if she would just give in a little and focus on enjoying it, she’d realize her mind does too.

Of course, she wouldn’t know the difference between dominance and abuse. She’s never been taught otherwise. The lines between passion and aggression have never existed for her, if she’s ever known true passion at all. She’s slowly learning the difference, and I'll be as patient with her as she needs me to be.

I reach up and grab the very top of her throat, carefully wrapping my fingers around her delicate, still bruised skin, so I can clasp my hand around her jaw in a show of dominance.

“Show me.” I demand. My voice coming out in a dark form. She lets a sexy little whimper escape, and she might as well be getting on her knees. My hard dick is so hard and strained that I have to stop myself from coming right then.

She unbuttons her jeans and slides them down. The slow, tantalizing movements give me the best strip tease of my life. I know she’s nervous, but she has no need to be. If she knew the power she truly holds over me, she would never doubt how beautiful she is.

The moment she stands back up I pull her shirt and bra off of her. Practically tearing the fabric with the force of my impatience and exposing her perfect breasts to me. I cusp and glide my hand back and forth over her wet pussy, so wet it’s dripping, and I begin ravaging her body. Placing my teeth and tongue all along her neck and her breasts. On top of them, in between them, underneath them.

I can’t contain myself. This woman has me wound up. The electricity I feel when I touch her is unlike anything else, and I let it surge as I insert two fingers inside of her. My digits brush and rub against her hot, slick walls, and the moment I find the right spot inside her, my cock twitches. Her arms reach up and wrap around my neck and that pulls me to stop, but only for a moment, because when I start again, I'm going to ruin her.

“Do you want me to fuck you like my girlfriend? Or fuck you like a whore?” Her eyes flutter closed to my words, and I can tell that her answer gets stuck behind a moan threatening to escape. “How about a little bit of both?”

Shockingly, she reaches up and kisses me. Her lips press against mine with so much urgency that I can feel the desperation radiating off of her. I force my tongue in her mouth as I desperately thrust my fingers in and out of her before pulling back and practically clawing at my own clothes. Her own hands join in, quickly helping me undress out of my bloodied clothes and throwing the garments across the room.

I fist my cock as I wrap my free arm around her, grab on to that perfect ass, and lift her up. Driving myself into her in a single thrust as she wraps her legs around me and clings to me. Preparing for the wildest ride of her life. Her grip on my shoulders tightens as her walls flutter around my cock to adjust, and the moan she releases instantly has my balls tightening.

Turning toward the bed, I hold her hips against me with one arm, and her legs tighten their hold. Wrapping around me with such force, I’m not sure she’ll ever let go. I push her torso over, still holding on to her hips and keeping myself buried deep inside her. As she falls back, she catches herself on the bed with her hands, creating a perfect arch with her body, leading from the mattress to my dick. Her head dangles, and her long, straight hair is draped over the bed. Laying in a perfect river of black along the soft sheets.

“Such a good girl, you know what you want.” I praise her as I run my hand up and down her stretched body, feeling every tightened muscle on her abdomen leading down to her breasts, then back up towards me. All the way back to her delicious cunt, her clit screaming to be touched. I start to move slowly, keeping her featherlight body up as I watch my dick slide out of her sweet cunt. Only for it to disappear again as I push myself back in. A little faster than before and admiring the way her pussy stretches to accommodate me. With every inch that sinks back into her, I lose another piece of my control. Completely snapping the moment I bottom out.

My inner demons surface. The unhinged beast I evolve into when I’m near her overtakes me, and I begin pounding her. Abusing that heavenly little cunt in the way she secretly craves. The lewd sounds of her juices and the slapping of our skin fills the room, and only drives me harder and faster. Determined to wreck her so intensely that the shape of my cock is permanently imprinted into her walls.

Even with my brutal pace, my gaze never strays. My eyes lock onto where our bodies connect, and watch as my cock moves in and out, over and over, coming out more slick every time. Her juices dripping down her pelvis and over my base.

Her body is a sight to behold. The way her breasts sway and bounce, she jolts with every deep thrust, and the way her walls flutter and suck me back in almost has me drooling. Those delicious abdominal muscles tense and relax with our movements, and I can’t help sink my fingertips into her luscious skin. Hard enough to bruise, but I don’t feel any ounce of remorse. She needs to learn that not all bruises are caused by malicious abuse. Some mistreatments can be the most pleasurable, and I’ll prove that to her with her throbbing clit.

The moment my calloused thumb touches aching bead, she cries out, and her walls begin to flutter and clench around my length. A moan of satisfactions slips from my lips, and I rhythmically swirl my thumb around her clit at the same pace as my thrusts. With every drive, I bury myself inside of her, forcing myself as deep as possible. Making sure to hit that sweet spot that has me groaning and her gasping. I can’t quite hear myself over her screams and moans, and I'm not sure I've ever heard something so beautiful.

“Fuck, I love your voice! Howl for me!” I say through gritted teeth and short grunts.

“Oh God Damien! Right there! Please don’t stop!” Her whole body begins to tremble, and I can tell from the short, panting moans coming from her mouth that she’s about to come. My balls quickly tighten to the realization, and as I feel her sweet liquid drench my cock, I empty myself into her. Burying myself inside her as my balls draw up and my cock explodes. Flooding her with my cum.

I pump into her slowly to finish her off. Feeling her pussy slowly starting to ease while my dick softens inside her. Pulling out of her feels like a crime, and the whimper that escapes her throat from the emptiness actually makes my heart sink. It’s the same feelings associated with looking at puppies without homes. So, when her body attempts to relax, I pull her back up to me. Desperate to feel her sweat dewed skin against mine. The silky strands of her hair whip forward and brush along my skin. Caressing me with such softness my eyes flutter.

Her sweet, vanilla scent reaches my nostrils, and it instantly calms me. She’s so close right now, and I don’t want to let her go. Like if I ever stopped touching her my heart would freeze. My grip on her tightens as I kiss her through her heavy breathing, and her lips taste like my last meal.

Everything I wanted and have been starving for. It’s as if I haven't kissed them for the past six days, and I needed her lips to survive a painful death. She drapes herself over and around me in the most compelling way. Securing her permanent place in existence.

I'm sure her muscles are screaming at her from all of the sexual torment I’ve put it through this past week. That few minutes of a massage yesterday was not near enough for her, but I know the perfect thing. Leaning down carefully, I lay her on the bed, run my hand through her hair, and brush the smooth strands from her gorgeous face. I can’t help but admire her wrecked form. Her eyes are half lidded, her mouth is parted slightly, and her breaths are deep and slow. She’s still coming down, and she looks as if she might pass out.

After covering her with her blanket and making sure she’s comfortable, I walk into the bathroom and start to run some bath water. Once I bring her home and can lay her into my large tub, I’ll be able to bathe her like she deserves. Though, for now, this small tub at the base of her shower/tub combo will have to do.

Looking under the sink, I find her muscle relaxing bath salts and put some in. Sprinkling the salt like substance and letting the eucalyptus and spearmint scent permeate through the small room. Once the water is up to where it needs to be, and I’m sure it’s the right temperature, I walk back to her. Admiring her blissed-out body and satisfied face.

I carry her almost completely limp body, bridal style, into the bathroom and gently lay her in the tub. The moment her body sinks in, she releases the most breath catching sigh, and her eyes start to roll. Pure bliss and serenity is carved into her face and I can’t help but smile softly. Endearment flooding my body and forcing me to reach out and caress her face.

“Don’t fall asleep baby girl, I can’t have you drowning. I’d hate to rage a war with water.” She sleepily nods, and my grin grows. She’s so soft, and so gentle, a part of me actually feels bad for exhausting her to this point. Her mental turmoil is taxing enough. I didn’t have to tire her physically as well, but I know she enjoyed it just as much, if not more, than I did.

Using her vanilla body wash, I run my hands over her chest and under her neck, sensually washing her. Running my hands over her satin, creamy skin to relieve any aches she may have. Once I get to her stomach, she reaches up with her hand and lightly runs her fingers up and down my arm. Humming slightly in contentment before she lowers it again, falling asleep. I can’t help but shake my head in an adoring manner and continue to wash her. Making sure every curve and dip is clean.

I then move to her hair, holding her head above water with one hand and working with the other. Scrubbing her scalp and massaging it before I rake my fingers through a few times, knowing that’s what really gets her. I’ve rescued kids, men, and women. Seen just about every horrible thing there is to see, and yet, nothing has looked as precious and vulnerable as she does right now. She makes me think about things in a whole new way. See things in a new light. I never thought I could feel any deeper for her than I did when I first saw her, but looking at her now, I feel how untrue that is.

After I finish washing her, I drain the water, wrap a towel around her and lift her into my lap. Using a second towel to try and get all of her as dry as I can while keeping her warm. Once she’s as dry as she’s going to be for now, I pick her up again and carry her back to bed. Careful not to jostle her too much or cause her to jolt awake in a panic.

I lay us together in bed, her right on top of me with her head resting on my chest. Allowing each other’s warmth to intertwine with our bodies. I’m shocked by how easily my body melts, even between her and the bed. My eyelids are drooping and feeling heavy due to the level of comfort I feel with her. Which must be reciprocated, because she nudges her head into my chest as I begin rubbing her back and lulling her into a deeper sleep.

I’ve never wanted to keep someone this close. I knew I wanted her, but fuck, I need her. The moment I read her text, it was like I couldn’t breathe. My anger for what could happen to her stole every sign of life from me. Even sprinting, my breath was nonexistent, and it stayed absent until she flung that door open.

I knew in that moment I’d die for her, and as her tolerance for me grows, who knows where I'll be by the end of it. I meant what I said. I want her mind, body, and soul, but now I also need it, and she’ll steal mine from me in the process. I am as much hers as she is mine, and there’s no telling what entity we’ll grow into together. What threat we’ll pose to any danger that dares to stop us.

I may fight every day to rid the city of the drugs and criminals that plague it, but now I’ve found my own vice. It’s her, and I'm so addicted and obsessed I may finally understand why these people turn to drugs. Now, the thought of having to withdraw from her worries me. Scares me, even, and I’m not sure what to do with these feelings. It can’t lose her. It can’t happen; I won’t let it. Because I’m not sure there’s anything left in this life without her in it.

I won’t lose her. I'll make sure of it.