She wanted the darkness to drown her to make her go to sleep and never wake up.
Her demon in her head was telling her to push that blade deeper into her soul.
He wanted to make the sharpness of the blade dance inside her wound.
Her cold fingers were around his wrist that was holding that wiggling blade.
His small thoughts could not see that he was not just holding the knife but he was also the cruelness of the pain that would peek through her drops of blood.
All of it would end for him: the kisses and smiles, the soft touches, sadly everything that made his terrible dream.
She would escape with his last extraordinary ****** provided by her and crash into her sea of night never to be seen again.
The tears would hopefully wash away some of the blood and then her body would be cold, as cold as his heart.
Happiness was never supposed to be one of her friends anyways but Death would always be that secret admirer stalking her every move.
Suffering from him knowing he would end up killing her sweetly was a pleasurable method of sedation.
Arousing her with delicious lies while laughing in her face, she then realized he was Lucifer himself and she was that naïve half ******.
What kind of woman is she for letting him damage her even more?
Is she kind-hearted for devoting herself to his cruel ways?
Or is she some kind of seductive sociopath not caring if she’s more than cold?