What Little Light Was Left Inside Me

Don’t Panic, I Thought. But Already My Breathing Was Faster, Shallower. “you Mean You Can Feel Happy Or Sad Or—” “desire.” A Barely-there Smile.

You Want Me To Come Clean, I Will. I'll Tell You Everything. Who I Am And What I've Done. Every Last Detail. I'll Dig It All Up, But You Have To Ask. You Have To Want It. You Can See Who I Was, Or You Can See Who I Am Now. I'm Not Good," He Said, Piercing Me With Eyes That Absorbed All Light But Reflected None, "but I Was Worse.

Patch Was Dressed In The Usual: Black Shirt, Black Jeans And A Thin Silver Necklace That Flashed Against His Dark Complexion. His Sleeves Were Pushed Up His Forearms, And I Could See His Muscles Working As He Punched Buttons. He Was Tall And Lean And Hard, And I Wouldn't Have Been Surprised If Under His Clothes He Bore Several Scars, Souvenirs From Street Fights And Other Reckless Behavior. Not That I Wanted A Look Under His Clothes.

Are You Keeping Anything Else From Me?” “i’m Keeping A Lot Of Things From You.” “like?” “like The Way I Feel About Being Locked Up In Here With You. You Have No Idea What You Do To Me.

My History Is Long, And Not Much Of It Is Good. I Can't Erase It, But I'm Determined Not To Make Another Mistake. Not When The Stakes Are High, Not When It Comes To You.