The damage is only collateral, but the guilt?
That’s the real weapon.
It still is.
Because the truth?
He was right. I did leave him, and the worst part is that sometimes I still catch myself trying to be the hero. Maybe if I save enough people, I can undo what I did or what I didn’t do. If I follow orders, mistakes like that won’t happen again. So I had two choices: play the victim or take control.
I chose the only thing that seemed to get me results. The only way I knew how. What’s more controlling than dictating the lines of my own mind on paper? I just learned to hide it better until I got out of that hellhole I used to call home.
Settling in with my sketchbook, I let my thoughts bleed out through the carbon. A couple of hours pass in a haze, lines turning into shapes, shadows becoming a face I’m starting to know all too well… Curls, full lips, mesmerizing eyes, she’s there again, always there. The one that got inside my head. She follows me, a ghost showing up in the most ridiculous places, in the burnt autumn leaves, in every damn shade of green I see.
It’s cruel, really.
But that’s life, isn’t it? Cruel.
The bottle sits empty on the table, glinting in the soft flicker of candlelight. I need another one. The burn in my veins takes the edge off, smooths everything out until the world feels just quiet enough. I get up, a little unsteady, heading toward the bathroom. That’s when I hear it, muffled sounds bleeding through the wall, her room.
Avilyna.
And it sounds like she’s having fun…Realfun. Kvirr… I want to have fun with her. Thought it a thousand times more than I should’ve. My mind’s off the leash now, running wild through places I usually keep locked up tight.
Morals?Please.
I don’t exactly wear a halo on a good day, but when I’m on a mission, the weight of it usually keeps me in check. Keeps me from doing something stupid, like letting this control me. The orders are all I have in mind, my focus, my mission.
But I could silence this craving just by having her, right?
Justonce.
Just one touch, one moment where our bodies are intertwined for a night. Just one instant where I could just get lost. Like tasting her would somehow burn it out of me, a more concentrated version of what my fire whiskey does.
Kill the obsession.
Put the ghost to rest. But that line, the thing that keeps me grounded, is vanishing, drowned in alcohol. And when it hits, it hitshard, a storm of heat and hunger with no brakes, no warning, pure, raw need. All I can do is let it take me as my mind wanders.
Avilyna’s lying on her bed, hair loose, those curls I can draw from memory framing her perfect face, skin glowing with that sun-kissed tan. Innocent-looking? Sure. That’s how she traps you, makes you think it’s safe.
Come closer,she seems to whisper.I won’t bite.
But she’s the one calling the shots. Her legs are spread wide. Hooded eyes holding my stare, a challenge. I’m enraptured as her fingers trail between her full breasts, inviting me forward. I reach for her, hungry to join this dance, but she stops me.
No touching for you. You only get to watch.
Vi’s voice is slow, sweet, dripping with promise.
Vi?
I like it, tasting as sin on my tongue,intimate. As if I’m the only one who has ever been allowed to say it, mine. That familiar pull resurfaces, a forgotten lullaby. Captivating, tugging at my will, outpacing every thought.
I groan, frustration twisting with hunger as my hand moves, desperate to ease the ache pressing tight against my pants. Avilyna watches, amused, that cruel, slow smile spreading across her plump lips, tormenting me. Her finger trails down, slow and deliberate, settling between those smooth lips. She parts them just enough, circling that pink clit like she knows exactly how much it drives me insane. As if she can see the way I want it to be,metouching her soft pussy?—
I fall hard on the cold marble, my head smashing into it with a dull thud. Lost in the fantasy, I didn’t notice the towel tossed on the floor, my foot getting caught in it. A pained moan rips free from my mouth. Mixed with frustration as the absurdity of it all finally hits me.
Get a fucking grip, Brackwell.
Here I am, lying on the cold floor, drunk and daydreaming about a woman I shouldn’t be giving any of my attention to. Maybe hitting my head is exactly what I need. It will right my senses, my thoughts.
