You started a riot in my heart.
Not the kind that seek peace, but those that seek blood.
You started a riot. But I’m the one that will see them through until the end.
Things were too quiet to be okay.
The silence was only broken by the sound of my breathing, and even it wasn’t enough to keep the panic away. He brought me here for a reason.
The calm tension said it all.
Sometimes I couldn’t even stand to look inside my closet. It was always hanging in the back; I made sure of it. But somehow, it always managed to find its way back into my line of sight – back into my life.
That little black dress.
Get up. Please.
You have to get up.
I couldn’t breathe. Blood spattered the concrete in front of me, a trail of crimson from my nose to the cement block a few feet away – but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he wasn’t moving.
He wasn’t breathing.
I’d never ridden in one before, and it felt odd to be riding in one now.
Well. Given the circumstances, anyway.
He sat beside me with a look on his face that dared me to strike up conversation, and so I sat in silence, sullen and bewildered by my terrible luck.
One zipper after another. That’s how we’ll do this.
Where is it?
I began to panic. There were only so many pockets in my backpack, but none seemed to hold what I desperately needed. What he needed.
But just keep looking.
You have to.