Warner was supposed to be dead. Warner was supposed to be dead because I was supposed to have shot him but no one supposed I’d need to know how to fire a gun so now I suppose he’s come to find me. He’s come to fight. For me.
He takes my hand. Intertwines our fingers. Offers me a smile that manages to kiss my heart.
He leaves less than a foot of space between us and I’m 10 inches away from spontaneous combustion.
I’m falling apart and into his heart and I’m a disaster.
Because the more I discover about him, the fewer excuses I have to push him away. He’s unraveling before me, becoming something entirely different; terrifying me in a way I never could’ve expected.
The world is a mess and I want to laugh because all I can think is how horrible and beautiful it is.
We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it.
Hate looks just like everybody else until it smiles. Until it spins around and lies with lips and teeth carved into the semblance of something too passive to punch.
Moving forward is the only way to survive.
My eyes are two professional pickpockets, stealing everything away in my mind. I lose track of the minutes we trample over.
I feel like I’ve been split open and stuffed with sunshine.
This girl is destroying me. A girl who has spent the last year in an insane asylum. A girl who would try to shoot me dead for kissing her. A girl who ran off with another man just to get away from me. Of course this is the girl I would fall for. I close a hand over my mouth. I am losing my mind.
The small hand of a clock taps me at one and two, three and four, whispering hello, get up, stand up, it’s time to wake up wake up “Wake up,” he whispers.
I want to study the secrets tucked between his elbows and the whispers caught behind his knees. I want to follow the lines of his silhouette with my eyes and the tips of my fingers. I want to trace rivers and valleys along the curved muscles of his body.
My body is a carnivorous flower, a poisonous houseplant, a loaded gun with a million triggers and he’s more than ready to fire.
I clench my fists and try not to scream and I tuck my friends in my heart and revenge I think has never looked so sweet.
Life is a bleak place. Sometimes you have to learn how to shoot first.
In just two days, one girl has managed to cripple me.
The sun drops into the ocean and splashes browns and red and yellows and oranges into the world outside my window.
Son of a motherless goat!