Those fake blue eyes stared back, mocking me. At least the tears didn’t show. Thank God. Instead, they ducked back into my eyelids as I tucked my sadness back into my core.... The more my mind flew off in one direction, the more my sanity shattered into pieces that no one could sweep up and glue back together.

I already apologized for that.”“No, you didn’t.”“Then I’m sorry.”"“Fuck your sorry.”“Fine. Fuck my sorry.

Blood is no longer flowing in my brain right now. It’s somewhere else.

Don’t ever try to leave me again.

And with her hair, so red, she’d caught my eye... My little red riding hood.

Are you both drunk?” I headed up the ladder and propped myself on a swing with no problem. “Correction, dear brother.” Hex held one finger in the air. “We’re exquisitely tipsy. There’s a difference. Drunkenness is done at a shady bar, in ugly clothing, surrounded by the mundane. While exquisite tipsiness is performed in an art setting among geniuses.”“Thanks so much for the distinction.” I rolled my eyes.

I didn’t understand what was supposed to happen from our swinging, but the need to make her happy bloomed in my chest.

Are you both drunk?” I headed up the ladder and propped myself on a swing with no problem. “Correction, dear brother.” Hex held one finger in the air. “We’re exquisitely tipsy.

Art isn’t a means for income when it comes to Hex. He would do it if he was trapped on an island by himself or the richest man in the world. For him, art is like breathing. He just has to do it.