I'm telling you, monsters aren't born, they're made.

This isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and I'm not the handsome prince come to save you.

He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her how much she had come to mean to him. She could destroy him with her rejection. If she had feigned her feelings for him - if he'd bought into her lies and her quest for freedom... He wasn't sure what he would do. He could hurt her.

People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night.

He was my tormentor and my solace; the creator of the dark and the light within.

My heart, independent of my logic, had reserved a place for my tormentor and my solace.

Some men don't eat pussy. I think those men are pussies.