17 May 2012
Liam sat on the opposite side of the room from me. The dim glow of the candlelight flickered and morphed in his violent eyes, and for a moment he turned and stared into my own, so deep I thought his gaze had pierced my soul, before turning to face the wall again. He looked down at his hands, and voice dripping with spite, asked me, "This was what you wanted, wasn't it?". I couldn't speak; couldn't move. It took a while to register that I was even breathing, for it seemed as though I'd been holding my breath through every word he'd said to me. "Lola," he snarled, glancing at me again with those terrible eyes, "Was this what you wanted?". My breath caught in my throat. I clutched my neck and let out a quiet gasp, before simply choking back the word, "No". I wanted to cry, to scream at him, to run far away and never return. But I stayed, just as I always had and probably always would. For he had held me here for so long that I just wasn't sure where to turn anymore, and I was scared to let go of everything I had built up for fear of seeing it crumble and fall before my eyes, like the ruins of an old citadel after battle. I was fighting a war of my own, but it was not with Liam. No, this war was bigger than that. This war was with myself.
Kisses With Killers • Opuss № I