Still lonely? she asks, sadistic and vicious and all the other things she is, and she laughs her atrocious little laugh, all bitter smiles and narrowed eyes as she digs her fingernails into her own leg.

Crescent moon marks left behind, oh how endearing.
oh how captivating.
oh how tragic.

Disaster isn't the right word, but it's the first that comes to mind.

run run run runrun run run run runrunrunrunrun run run run run run run run run run run runrun run run runrun run run run
He knows he should leave now, leave before things get even worse (but wait but wait, aren't they already?).

The question is open ended. He arches an eyebrow, tries not to act like he's terrified of the ferocious creature that she is.

Not at all, he replies, but they both know it's a lie, a fabrication made to save at least some of his dignity.

She arches an eyebrow right back at him, and he knows that look all too well and he's oh so terrified, oh so scared, oh so
petrified.

Hysteria at its finest.

She moves to get up, open your eyes, and he can't help it he flinches at every move she makes.

Finish what you've started.

She slaps him across the face, mocks him, and he just stares back.
She destroys him, both physically and mentally, and he just stares back.

She kisses him, and this time he kisses back, but really they both know it's just another power struggle.

Lust without like.
This only looks like love.

It's all irreversibly fucked up.
Quite happily incorrigible.

The birds are chirping outside, and
oh how ironic he notices as she shoves him onto the bed.