H.D. Carlton

Scars only serve as reminders of what we’ve survived, not what killed us

“Meadows, baby. Our last name is Meadows.”

Do you even like it?”

“I like you, does that count?”

“No.”

I’m too addicted to you to ever let you go,” he murmurs. My eyes flutter closed, another dose of relief hitting me straight in the heart.

“But I don’t know how to make you stay,”

“I knew you were going to do this to me, little mouse. I’ve always known it was going to come to this,” he says softly.

You'll never escape me, little mouse.

You’re searching for life inside that sunset, yet I seek death between your thighs,”

“Are you proposing because you’re in love with me or because I gave you anal?”

“Meadows, baby. Our last name is Meadows.”

“You were always going to be the one that saved me, little mouse.”