Some start with a bang. Some start with smiles. Some start with sparks.
And some, some you can't even tell how it starts at all, only that it did
and now you're
tangled. Hands and feet bound in a net wrapped, twisted around your body, around your bones, around your brains.
And you can't get out of it. But you don't want to anyways, because this is what it's like
(or as they all say) what it's like to fall in
Or so you would be inclined to believe. Because the last time your back was up
against a wall like that, so was everything else of yours. Your emotions, your convictions,
your religion. And when you finally pulled yourself off of it, you swore to the only god left that
you believed in
that you would never put anything of yours in the hands of any
because all beautiful people were the same. Lovely and different from afar until you got within the reach of
their crusted fingernails, their sharp talons that raked in what you had to give and locked it
away in their cold rattling chests to feed on until they could prey on their next victim. And you
were left, stripped down to the skin and running as fast as you could
into exactly what you wanted to avoid,
exactly what you swore you'd never go near again. But this time he was lovely and different from all the others. He had strong hands, a gentle touch, and you couldn't see any talons.
So there you were again, in a net, knowing you would hate yourself again in a couple months,
knowing you were tangled in the trap of another beautiful person, knowing that right now you were helpless to it, and knowing that
this time, you had a knife.
A knife to carve out the bleeding heart of a beast.