"He’d broken me. He’d broken my brain, shattered my willpower to bits, and still had the audacity to maintain enough self-control to keep his stupid hands to himself. I wanted to break him. I wanted him to lose every ounce of composure and restraint he possessed, to be engulfed in the same irrational, all-consuming fire he’d drenched me in. I wanted him to feel as frustrated and out of control as I did."
With an inner disturbance beating around his bowels, he wished it was over, but wishes weren’t for people like him. They were for those who celebrated birthdays, and those who aspired to accomplish great things in their lifetimes. They were for normal people that hadn’t disappointed everyone they’d come into contact with.
The violent amalgamation of inner cranial tissues, skeletal fragments, and Geraldine’s rage. An incident that left an impression of such depth on him that it would last a lifetime.
“My heart wanted to hurt him. My head wanted to hate him. My body just straight-up wanted him.”
is it hate at this point?
“You’re always finding ways to be around each other. You claim to hate one another, you piss each other off, and everyone sees it and knows about it, but it’s like you two are addicted to each other. You have to be around him, even if you’re just fucking with him, or you get all moody and twatty.”