97 Quotes by A. Zavarelli

The thing about butterflies, Mr. Crow, is that they need to be admired from afar.

His heart is the rhythm, mine is the echo.

I needed to channel the darkness that ran through my veins and embrace it. To play this game better than this man ever could have predicted. After all, I’d only been with him twice, and already I could see his weakness. His weakness was me.

Even when she was on her knees- filled with my darkness- she was still shining bright. My Siren’s song, my exposed nerve. She lured me in and made me feel. And then she left me to perish.

It wasn’t desire, it was biology. My body was adapting to the situation. Doing what it needed to survive. That, I was certain of. Because if I had liked it, liked the hands of this monster, that would have made me a monster too.

She made the beast rear its ugly head. Stirred fantasies in my mind I would have never otherwise entertained. Owning her wasn’t enough. Controlling her didn’t douse the inferno blazing inside me.

She was the only antidote for the bleakness that lived inside of me. My goddess. My deity. I wasn’t a believer in any religion, but I’d make an exception in this case. I’d get down on my knees and worship at her alter every day if it brought her back to me.

I didn’t know what to say. What to do. I didn’t feel strong anymore. I felt like I couldn’t go on without him. He loved me fiercely. Obsessively. Rivalled only by the intensity which I felt for him. So why couldn’t we be together?

Was it cruel if someone asked for it? Begged for it, even? She always begged. Even now, I could hear her whimpering for me. Christ, those noises she made. A one-way ticket to heaven.