I suppose some of us have to get really dirty before we can become truly clean. I was allegedly South Dakota's most famous old lady. Sixteen years ago I survived my old man's murder Never again. Never again will I surrender my heart. Never again will I sacrifice to the Club. But that all changed in one night. I came home and crashed into him, and my past and present blew up in my face. Both of us lonely, running on empty, and unwilling to admit it. Until now. Now I feel things I'd forgotten about, want things I'd cut out of my insides. Love not only stings when you lose it, when it's ripped...
I suppose some of us have to get really dirty before we can become truly clean. I was allegedly South Dakota's most famous old lady. Sixteen years ago...
My resurrection, they call it. They have no bloody idea. Shipwrecked and lost, left for dead, Abandoned by my own family. Drugged and addicted. My wife saved me, brought me home. I didn't even know I had a wife-can I trust her? I know I want her. Desperately. We are two of a kind-the manipulated, the tossed off, the rejected. Bitter disappointments, painful secrets, age-old jealousies are my new shipwreck, and my wife my new opium. Is satisfaction to be found in revenge or revenge in satisfaction? One thing I do know, without each other we're both doomed."
My resurrection, they call it. They have no bloody idea. Shipwrecked and lost, left for dead, Abandoned by my own family. Drugged and addicted. My wif...
I am that gash in her soul. Once I loved Grace, really loved her. And she loved me, and it was so fucking beautiful. Once. That pendulum swings to and fro. We're here, and then we're- No. How can that rare beautiful be rendered irrelevant, intangible when I still feel so damn much? Does all that energy, that glory, that significance simply dissolve? Turn to smoke? To nothing? It can't. It just can't. Are the moments that shape us absolutely random? Is time not fluid? I made promises to them, to her. Especially to her. Promises I still burn to keep.
I am that gash in her soul. Once I loved Grace, really loved her. And she loved me, and it was so fucking beautiful. Once. That pendulum swings to and...
A knife that cut too deep, a slash that still burns, failures piled high and flammable. I held my losses at bay with knives, with guns, my hands, my bike, my brothers, my iron will. But not my heart. No, my heart was the flame that would light the match, ignite the blaze. I am the enforcer The killer when called upon, the ruthless hound on demand, the one who cleans the mess left behind. The protector I can make you bleed, Smash you to pieces. But she smashed all my excuses, and I shattered hers. For a split second she was mine, but I will always be hers. Some things, really beautiful things,...
A knife that cut too deep, a slash that still burns, failures piled high and flammable. I held my losses at bay with knives, with guns, my hands, my b...
