@poetonbeat >>
It was whether he would.
And deep down, the answer was already written into what he was nowโinto his natureโฆ into the very shape of his soul.
@poetonbeat โYou know what I am, Zoeyโฆ what I do. What I am.โ
The demonโs gaze lingered on the idol, empty and unreadable, as if emotion itself had long been burned away.
He hadnโt killed anyone tonight. Not yet.
But the question wasnโt whether he could.
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โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ would you love me more if I killed someone for you ? would you hold my hands ? they're the same ones that I used . . when I killed someone for you .
โLook at meโ
โUse your wordsโ
โGood girlโ
โCome hereโฆโ
โThatโs my pretty girlโ
โMhmmmโฆโ
โDonโt get shy nowโ
โI wonโt ask againโ
โGet on your kneesโ
โDonโt move, darlingโ
โJust like thatโ
โFaster babyโ
โYouโre mineโ
โThatโs my girlโ
โSay pleaseโ
โIโm not doneโ
@poetonbeat >>
Baby pulls his knees in, lowering his head against them, hiding his face from her viewโlike if she canโt see him, then this version of him doesnโt exist at all.
@poetonbeat >>
His shoulders tense, breath uneven as the weight of it settles in.
โGwiโMa is catching on to himโฆ itโs getting to the point I canโt saveโโ
He cuts himself off, quieter now. Smaller.
โโฆsomeone I consider a brotherโฆโ
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