I cry a lot. But not after 8am or before 11pm.
I bounce between wanting to forgive and love you, and ripping your trachea out so you can’t lie to me anymore.
What will make me feel better though?
I’ve read your words repeatedly. They helped me, comforted me.
Now even your actions show that trust is a fools weakness and a liars tool.
The way you laughed, your smile… Even the way you ate, used to give me little moments of joy.
Now watching you choke as I feed you well packaged lies and poisonous pasta, warms my heart immensely.
I miss you and we’re not even friends! Just two hearts bound by heartbreak. I wonder if you’re well.
I’m rooting for your happiness.
This is so weird.
How have your been?
Funny how the words of your hearts true desire is what grounds me in the mist of my emotional storms.
Isn’t it ironic?
Knowing I’m your hearts second choice is shattering me.
But you know what they say about beggars…
My smile used to touch my eyes, beaming with hopeful anticipation.
Now it barely touches my lips.
My how things have changed…
Sometimes, you just feel the urge to see blood. For Leel that was all the time. Blood was his favorite color! It matched everything!
Yes, maybe he was a bit crazy. But who wasn’t? Being sane wasn’t so great. It made you worry about situations you couldn’t possibly control. Who wanted to live like that? In an undesirable state of constant frustration?
He didn’t. And he wouldn’t.
He let all of that anxiety go. Now he lives in the world of blood. Blood gave him peace. It didn’t over analyze right and wrong. It simply existed! How amazing was that?
So, he tried to off his best friend’s woman. In his defense, that pretty little Russian redhead was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was still alive after all.
Much to his dislike.
The point was, she was alive. Leel would do anything to make sure his best friend was happy. And if that meant keeping the woman he wanted alive, so be it. They would take down the people who sought to do them harm and he would make sure he saw red in the process.
Despite the incredibly long history Class had with women, he found himself utterly captivated by this Russian beauty that called herself Lasha. With her independent attitude and determination she found herself in the middle of a problem he was in charge of handling. There were some unruly groups in the city that needed to be dealt with. That’s what he and his companions were doing when they happened upon her.
They were in the mist of unruly, dark times. It was a situation that called for severe violence. The kind of violence that was not for the weak of heart. Or foreign beauties. She meant well, but she was in the way.
So he decided, much to her disapproval, to keep an eye on her. She was delicate and beautiful and extremely capable of killing him if given the chance. He like this spitfire! That’s why he blocked her attempts to get too involved. She didn’t know the kind of people she was trying to take on. Didn’t know that they could rip her apart. They would kill her without giving it a second thought.
He couldn’t let that happen.
She was a breath of fresh air. He’d been around so much darkness that he forgot there could be another way of life. He wasn’t a good guy. At all. He’d killed many of his enemies. They had it coming. They were just as bad as he was. Some even worse. Still, he wasn’t the type of man you wanted to bring home to meet your parents. He wouldn’t even pretend he was.
But he liked her. A lot.
She thought she knew what type of world she was stepping into. She had no idea. Things went more than bump in the night. And he couldn’t just let her go out in that night by herself. Like it or not, she needed his protection.
The Disciples ~ Krystle Nyte