You're mine, Pagan Moore. You will always be mine.
I'm not losing you again. You're with me. I want you there beside me. Always.
I smiled and ran my hand through his dark curls. “So, Death, what do we do now?
Write every day. Writing is a muscle that gets stronger with use.
In my search to find myself, I’d found so much more. I knew now why I wanted to live. I understood love. I had found it.
I was already headed for Hell, I might as well enjoy the ride.