The Dark Light of Day

We were just us, broken and bruised, fucked-up and messy, and together we were everything we never thought we could be.

I fell asleep that night in the arms of a killer. I'd never slept better.

We are all a little damaged, Bee. Some of us more than others.

I'm afraid I'm going to look at your perfect face, and you're finally going to see me as the monster I am.

You know what's worse than being a sick son-of-a-bitch? Knowing you're a sick son-of-a-bitch.

I like the way you make the silence bearable.

For the first time in a long time a bit of something I was unfamiliar with crept up inside me. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought it was hope.

I need to know if you would like it if I put him to ground for you.

Sick, twisted Abby was in love with the sick, twisted, beautiful Jake.

We were looking right into each other. Broken soul to broken soul.

Why do I want to touch you? Are you fucking kidding me right now? I want to help you. I want to hold you. I want to make it all okay for you. I want to fucking touch you because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and I can’t imagine never being able to hold your hand or kiss you. And yes – I want to fuck you, too, like I’ve never wanted anything in my whole life.

A revenge kill is the best kind of kill. But a revenge kill for your family, with your woman’s permission? That’s borderline erotic.

Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.

Why do you want to touch me? I'm nothing. I'm no one.

Even though life hands you a big pile of shit, you don’t have to roll around in it and make shit angels.

This is where I buried my first body.

He thrust into me as if he were trying to climb into my soul.

I'd much rather be known as the girl who wears sweatshirts than the vagina most likely to be recognized in a line up.

I finally realized that it’s possible to love within a space that sometimes holds nothing but emptiness.. or nothing but darkness. After all, we all have darkness within us. Some of us more than others.

We may not have been perfect, or even acceptable by anyone else’s standards. But together, we were perfect. Together, we were just us. Battered and broken. Dark and difficult. Impulsive and scared.

A family by choice, not chance. A choice to love, and to be loved in return. A choice to take care of and enjoy one another, not to put up with or to suffer through one another.

Hope had been stripped from me at every minute of every hour of every day for my entire life.

Fuck anyone who thinks anything on someone like you could ever be anything beautiful. You should be proud of them, baby.” “Proud?” “Yes, proud. They make you powerful. Each line is a road travelled, an experience you had, whether it was good or bad. Each mark is proof of pain in the past, not the present. You are a survivor, you are a warrior. These are the scalps hanging from your fucking belt. You took the beatings and here you are, in front of me. You are fucking amazing.

you will probably be eaten by either wild boar, coyotes, or at the very least these fucking annoying pterodactyl mosquitoes.

We don’t fit any mold. But, where you are concerned, it’s simple.” He kissed along my jaw line. “I want you, Abby. No bullshit . I want you just the way you are.

I would kill for you, Bee. Happily.” He ran his fingers down my cheek. “I need you to know that.

They call the figure that takes our loved ones from this world the angel of death, when really he’s just a corrupt errand boy who hides deep within his hood when he comes to take souls to the other side.

I would track you to the ends of the Earth and back. I will always find you, Bee. Always.

I once wondered if two broken souls could heal one another, I hoped the answer was yes.