I am so happy to say I have Blake's Point of view!!!!!! Yayyyyyy victory for me! Azah azahhh! WO! I don't I just wanted y'all to see how.. Ha ha ha. No peeking. Just saying I love this somgggg! Have fun with the chappppp!
Read if you dare...
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Someone. Some one...
"Thomas!"
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Blake's Pov~
(This is where she catches him staring at the picture. It's not in italics but know it's in the past.;)
The brightly, lively girl stared up at the picture. I wanted to speak. But I didn't. I didn't want to hurt her anymore. She had been hurting the past two weeks she'd been here. I didn't like to see her in pain. But I craved her pain. Especially when it was caused by me.
Sick?
You could say.
I simply call it love.
My type of love is abusive my darling.
I feed off her cries.
She takes in my silence.
Easy easy, now.
We work together, and she doesn't even know.
I feel for her too much, to just let her go, and leave me again.
She reminds me of my mother.
The light my mother had.
In her eyes especially.
The way she would always smile.
Except like little ole mum, I won't kill her.
She's the lightness, in the dark shell I've created.
Maybe she'll change the devil myself to an angel like her.
Let's pray to god she does.
Or sin of the devil she does not become one.
"Leukemia." I lied. I love how easy it was to lie when you were half sober, yet half drunk.
"My mother... She died of.." I continued but stopped. I saw the glint in her eyes, and I could tell she wanted to say something. I waited until no words came out. Sigh. I picked up the spoon, I purposely dropped. To get a clean one from the kitchen.
I looked at the mess I made the day prior. Empty beer cans littering the counter. Bottle of half-drunken scotch. I threw the spoon in the sink, not caring where it landed. Then grabbed the bottle of scotch. Taking an excessive amount of it.
I had shot down two bottles of beer, and the about rest of the scotch. I looked at my surroundings. Still not pissing drunk. I grabbed another. Walking back to the room my, Dolls in.
I sat uncomfortably on the chair. Giving her the soup Marisa made for me. Good thing I didn't tell Maris it was for her. Cause I'm sure she would've poisoned it. Or some crazy shit she always pulls. She's crazier than me. And I will say that honestly.
I looked up at the girl. Seeing something that wasn't my girl. The bowl of soup fell from my hands. Mom? My mom's brown hair faded into the girl, I thought was mine. Her turquoise eyes. Not finding the light. He pleads for me to stop. But I wouldn't listen. Cause I wanted the light in her eyes, that I couldn't have.
أنت تقرأ
The Stalker-- sorry My Stalker
غموض / الإثارة"Adventuring aye? Looking turns to seeing and seeing transforms into watching. Sometimes you can't control what you watch. Especially in the dim shadows, people trail unknowingly. It's an instinct, not an errand. To control is to have power. Don...
