invidious.

                        what a contradiction. bana was full of them, he’s learned, she was so good at playing his emotions like a piano. no matter how much dust or darkness loomed over the strings, she always knew exactly which note to play to make burnie restless. there is no rest for the wicked. 

                                  it is spoken with a malice, a darkness that coats her vocal cords and makes her sound alluring. like a poisoned apple, bitter at the beginning but there was a certain sweetness in agony, and even though you wish to save yourself and spit it out, the sweet voice tells you to swallow, and you will before fading out of this plane and into the next one. his tongue feels heavy, like he is tied down to the ground with the weight of a thousand sins. 

he can see her smile long before his eyes focus on it, cherry red lips painting her face in such a manner that would be beautiful to a man that did not know her core. and had burnie not learned it ? had he not been pinned beneath her malice over and over and over again ? she is sinister, she is corruption. explain to him how he cannot wash her out of his clothes ? 

 her fingernails brush through his locks of hair, like a lover, fondly – across his jaw and chin, and she’s putting pressure to turn his face toward her, hair feathered across his chest as she leans on his shoulder, perching like the cat who caught the canary, practically nose to nose with him. 

she breathes out, and it smells like flowers, he thinks. she breathes out, and her ash travels with her into his lungs, brain dripping negativity like novocaine, and what would he do without her ? be alone. isolated, quiet as new fallen snow. he’d never have another lifeform next to him again. she has fed her black blood into his healthy veins and he thinks that perhaps he can no longer exist without her in some way. 

he’d always think of her, think of her dark hair across his pillows and her voice in his ear, breath against his cheek, purring how worthless he is and yet still making it sound inviting. something beautiful. she is horrible and yet she is beautiful. what a horrible cocktail of misery. 

                                he looks at her and knows what she is, he looks at her and knows her games, knows her corruption. that’s the scary part. 

                   ( one day she will rip out his throat & laugh as he bleeds.                      one day, his blood will stain her and she will revel in it.                                                        she will be the death of him. ) 

                 ‘ i don’t know, my dear, ’ he brushes some hair behind her ear. 

                                              ‘ what would i do without you ? ’

                                   ( you already know the answer. ) 

Battler jumped straight into the ocean.

And so, he made it in time.