Page 157 of Hostile Saint

With his love, I hope to never be left behind.

Her poems spoke of pain, but also seemed to be praying for the future. How powerful was she? Without that answer, I could only be grateful for these wheels spinning underneath us…

Cruelty and all its power

Why am I the game of each hour?

Every pain, every slice…

It was not only me in this deadly vise.

Even though she hadn’t yet remembered me, Lace sensed me and our past. We were together, even when apart.

My torture feeds their needs.

My suffering is their natural high.

My misery is the outlet for their sadistic ways.

My despair… Their ecstasy.

Through her words, I could feel her breaking heart as she learned of her past.

I, a female, was their ideal victim.

My fear, my pain, was their fuel.

I was terrified

I fed them much.

Was her traumatic remembering of her past why she attempted to take her life?

There was Tate.

Damaged. Just like me.

I could see it in his exposed heart.

I dared to smile. She knew me. No matter what, our connection stood strong.

I wish to run from the hurt, but my feet can’t find the ground

Without the earth… I will never be found.

She was found… by me. Now she had to be found by herself.

Wounded souls and hearts with holes

May you forever be

Lovers of the night, willing to fight

May you forever… be

It was almost as if she had the revelation that our damaged souls made us who we were. Made us fighters. I exhaled… Life Warriors.

They weren’t illusions at all.