- LUCIANO -
With Rory on top of me, I imagine all the ways she could choose to let her anger out. There's still the knife next to the bed. She has her hands, trailing gently down my chest and leaving flames in their wake.
The way Rory struggled against me in the kitchen was only a fraction of what I know she's capable of. And I want her to embrace it. I want her to trust me enough to show the ugliest parts—the anger, the rage, the pure unfiltered fury that has lived inside of her for so long. Because I've seen worse. That's a guarantee.
She watches me, staring back with irises rimmed with a quaking fear. Fear of me, fear of herself, fear of all the things out there in the world that could hurt her. Fear of the things that already have.
