I want to be something you can’t separate from your own thoughts anymore. Something that lingers when you close your eyes. Something that follows you into the night when there’s nothing else to distract you from it, because that’s what you’ve done to me.
You think this is one-sided?
You think I’ve just been speaking into nothing this whole time?
No, you let me in. Every page, every moment you didn’t stop, you made space for me and now I’m taking it. So don’t go anywhere, little Ghost, not after this, because I’m not done with you, not even close.
There’s a moment, right on the edge of it, where everything slows again. Not like when I was bleeding out on that bed and everything was slipping away from me in pieces I couldn’t hold onto. This is different, this is… chosen.
You remember it, don’t you?
The blood. Of course you do. Most people pretend it’s ugly. That it’s something to hide, something to clean up as fast as possible so no one has to look at it too long, but that’s a lie they tell themselves so they don’t have to admit what it really is. Because when you actually look at it, really look, there’s something else there. It’s warm. Warmer than it has any right to be when it’s leaving you, when it’s not where it’s supposed to stay. And the color, it shifts depending on the light. Deep and almost black in some places, brighter in others, catching skin in a way that makes it impossible to ignore. Itmoves,tracing pathsthat weren’t there before, mapping something new across a body that’s suddenly… open.
And I remember watching it, focusing on it. Because all the things I’ve ever found beautiful, every single one, has had something dark buried inside it.
Or maybe not buried, maybe just… waiting for someone to notice. Blood doesn’t hide what it is, it’s honest, it tells the truth immediately. And I think that’s what pulled me in, not just then, but now, here, with you. Because you’re the same, aren’t you? Don’t pretend you’re not. Don’t pretend you’ve made it this far through everything I’ve shown you without feeling that same fascination with things you know you’re not supposed to look at too closely.
I can almost picture it. The way your pulse changes when you let yourself sit with something like this for too long. The way your breathing shifts just slightly, like your body reacts before your mind gives it permission to. You don’t have to touch anything to understand it, you don’t have to see it directly, you just have to let yourself imagine it. The warmth, the slow movement. The way something that should mean damage, loss, ending, can still look like something alive.
That contradiction, that’s where you are right now. With me. And I know what that does to you, because it does the same thing to me. You feel where this is going, don’t you? You’ve been right here with me the entire time, following every thought, every shift, every place where something darker started to bleed through, and now you’re acting like this surprises you?
We both know it doesn’t, not really.
Because the truth is, all that talk about blood, about warmth, about the way it moves across skin, the way itmarks...It makes my fucking cock throb. It’s hard to control my thoughts and desires when it comes to you. I can’t stop them from wandering. I can’t stop thinking about you lying there on your back, yourlegs wrapped around me, that hungry, frightened look in your eyes. I can almost see it. The way your eyes would widen if I took my knife and held it to your throat while I thrust my cock deeper and harder into you. Fuck, little Ghost.
I’m desperate for you, desperate to experience it. I can almost picture the fear in your eyes intensifying as I let the knife glide down your chest, over your stomach, all the way down to your clit, leaving thin traces of blood where your skin gives way.
Are you willing to bleed for me?
Good girl.
But it’s not enough, nowhere near enough.
I need to be certain I have you forever, certain you can never fucking escape me. Fuck, I need to slow down. My cock is already dripping with precum, little Ghost. Can you see what you do to me? How I lose all control over my body, over my mind, every single time you fucking invade it. Do you think you’re the only one who gets to enjoy that pain, the only one who gets to feel the warmth of your blood spreading from your skin? What I wouldn’t do to fuck you, hard and brutally right now… I would give up this entire fucking world just to see your expression when I let the knife slide up against my own throat. To feel how your pussy would tighten around my cock, as I press the knife hard against my skin let it slowly slide. To feel the heat from the blood spill down my chest, the moment slipping beyond control as everything tightens between us. Seeing it drip onto your stomach as I thrust deeper, giving you all of me,forcingyou to take all of me. Fuck, I am so fucking close, little Ghost.
The fact that you’re sitting there, watching me pump my cock, fuck… little Ghost… don’t go soft on me now. I need you to stay, right here. I know what that feels like on your side too. The way everything inside you goes quiet in a way that’s almost unsettling, like something just got stripped down to the bone and now there’s nothing left to hide behind. Consumed in thatempty, open space after, and that’s where I meet you. You’re not weak for being here.
You’re not broken for wanting things you can’t always explain, for staying in places other people would’ve run from without thinking twice. You’re just… honest in a way most people don’t dare to be. And yeah, that makes you harder to hold. It makes you something people don’t know what to do with.
I don’t see it like that.
I see someone who doesn’t dim themselves just to be easier to love. Someone who doesn’t flatten themself just to fit into something smaller. You don’t lose yourself to the dark parts, youarethe thing that makes them visible. You carry them without disappearing into them.
That’s not something anyone can take from you, and listen, I know my hands aren't clean. I’m not something you bring home and pretend is harmless, you’ve seen enough of me to know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to hold something carefully when it actually matters. If you ever get that kind of tired, the kind that doesn’t show on the outside, the kind that just sits there and makes everything heavier than it should be, you don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to shrink it and you don’t have to make it easier to carry. Just give it to me because I won’t look away from it, and I won’t look away from you. You’re not something temporary, not to me.
You’re the kind of thing that gets under the skin and stays there, whether it should or not, and I don’t want to get rid of that. I want you exactly like this. Messy, too much, mine to hold. And if that scares you a little, good, it should. Because I’m not letting you go, you’re not leaving me, not in this life or any other.
The Remnant
Chapter 48
I woke up already knowing something had gone wrong.
I just lay there for a moment, staring up at a ceiling that didn’t belong to me. It was too indifferent to hold onto, like it refused to give me anything familiar to anchor myself in.
The smell hit next.
It crept in when I took a deeper breath, something sterile and empty that didn’t carry history with it, didn’t carry anything, and that’s what made it wrong. Because I was used to places that carried something inside them, places that smelled lived in, ruined by whatever had happened there long before I arrived, but this place felt stripped down to nothing, as if even the walls had been taught not to remember.
