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what was it that made me yearn to walk across? what was it that made me want to give myself to her? it wasn't just that she was exquisite. sure, you had the gently smiling mouth, the soft full lips, the set-square straightness of that lovely nose. I could take or leave all that. you could see similar blandly beautiful young people in any fashion magazine. but she was flawed too. that was the brilliance of it. there was a homeliness to her, something ordinary in the lines of the face that made her seem accessible. it was the flash of doris blower behind marianne de sèvres. you sensed that deep down she understood what it was to feel imperfect and unspectacular. she understood your need for love.
Sayfa 174 - marianne de sèvres spectreKitabı okuyor
“There’s no need to wait. You have already captured my heart, body, and soul, Ava. I have no clue when it started, but at some point, my possessiveness and obsessiveness with you turned into this inferno of emotions where I was prepared to lose you if it meant protecting you. That’s when I realized I was in love with everything about you, whether it’s your obsession with pink, candy floss, or cheesy books and films. The lack of you has stripped my world of color and made me realize you’re my sole light in the darkness. It’s why I killed for you and would do it again in a heartbeat. I’d kill everyone if it meant I’d get to keep you. Perhaps that’s not the healthiest form of love, but it’s all I have. The heart you slowly awakened is entirely yours to do with as you please.”
Men love war because it allows them to look serious. Because they imagine it is the one thing that stops women laughing at them. In it they can reduce women to the status of objects. That is the great distinction between the sexes. Men see objects, women see relationship between objects. Whether the objects love each other, need each other, match each other. It is an extra dimension of feeling we men are without and one that makes war abhorrent to all real women - and absurd. I will tell you what war is. War is a psychosis caused by an inability to see relationships. Our relationship with our fellow-men. Our relationship with our economic and historical situation. And above all, our relationship to nothingness. To death.
Erkekler savaş sever çünkü bu iş ciddi görünmelerine izin verir. Çünkü kadınların onlara gülmesini engelleyen tek şeyin bu olduğunu düşünürler. İçlerinde kadınları nesneleştirebilirler. İki cinsiyet arasındaki en büyük ayrım da budur. Erkekler nesneleri, kadınlar nesneler arasındaki ilişkiyi görürler. Nesnelerin birbirini sevip sevmediği, birbirine ihtiyacı olup olmadığı, birbiriyle eşleşip eşleşmediği. Bu, erkeklerin yoksun olduğu ekstra bir duygu boyutudur ve yine savaşı tüm kadınlara menfur ve saçma kılan bir gerçektir. Gel sana savaşın ne olduğunu söyleyeyim. Savaş, ilişkileri görememenin neden olduğu bir psikozdur. Dostlarımızla olan ilişkimizi. Ekonomik ve tarihsel durumumuzla ilişkimizi. Ve hepsinden önemlisi, hiçlikle olan ilişkimizi. Ölümüne.
“Stop taking on my burdens!”
“I can’t! They’re my burdens now, too! Because I can’t live without you anymore. Because I don’t want you in prison, Devon. I want you out here, with me, for as long as I can fucking have you. Because… Because you’re a piece of shit asshole from Garron Park with a loud mouth and have the ability to piss me off like none other… and you’re exactly what I want. What I need. So be pissed at me all you want, Devon. But I’d do it again. I’d do it every fucking time because I’m falling for you, you dumb fuck.”
So when it comes down to a specific answer, it’s easy. “Everything,” I say.
“Everything?” she asks, voice laced with confusion.
“Your passion, your darkness, your fire, and even your damn stubbornness. I find all of them sexy and there isn’t a thing I would change about you. So yes, everything.”
Her lips part and her eyes soften with deep affection before she turns her gaze away as if hiding her reaction.
“You’re touched, aren’t you?” I poke her arm.
“Shut up.” Her cheeks turn crimson.
I smile. “Pay me back, sweetheart.”
“Pay you back?”
“Yeah. Tell me what you like most about me.”
“No.”
It’s my turn look at her twice. “No?”
She lifts her chin in defiance, eyes glinting. “It’s a secret.”
“You don’t get to keep secrets from me.”
“Yes, I do.” She lay her head on my arm. “I can’t have you lose interest in me.”
“Believe me, that will never happen.”
“Still no. You need a challenge, remember? I’ll be that challenge and more.”
I smile to myself. This is why Elsa is one a kind. This is why she’ll always be mine.
No one understands me as much as she does.
“Since you’re a curious little kitten, I’ll let you ask me any question you like.”
My eyes widen. “Any question?”
He nods.
Whoa. That’s some commitment for the devil.
I straighten so my back is propped up against his bent knee. “And you’ll answer them all.”
We need to get that straight, because ‘you can ask me any question’ in Aiden’s manipulative words can also mean he’ll choose not to answer.
His grin widens as if he can read my mind. “And I’ll answer them on one condition.”
Of course.
I huff. “What?”
“You’ll remove a piece of clothing for every question I answer.”
“Hey! That’s not fair.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Take it or leave it.”
I should’ve known the deal would end up playing in his favour.
My jacket lies on his lap. I try to retrieve it. I need all the clothes I can get.
Aiden snatches it away. “This was already off. It doesn’t count.”
Dickhead.