Femme
Fatale

Don't lie, sweetheart — we are all sinners here.

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about me

Love: it is a vast ocean of nothingness.

Being witness to a third party relationship did things to her — wrecked her, crushed her, killed her. She knew what it meant to be the outsider (the homewrecker). That's what everyone called her, anyway. Even though she wasn't. She was his first, but he was her last. But no one gave a damn because who would take the word of a seductress over the dying words of death's next victim.

I envy you, she once said to me with her eyes rimmed in dark circles and teeth rotting yellow. (Death is not beautiful, was what I wanted to tell her. But words of encouragement and sympathy clogged my throat and all I could do was splutter in guilt and regret.) You're too perfect..

There's a wretched gasp that cuts the thick silence in the room. It took me a long time to realize it came from me. In that moment, I hated Death. Hated him for taking her away from me. Hated him for hovering over my shoulder and breathing down my neck. Spotlights are constantly on me, but so was Death. And he was relentless.

out of character