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There’s nothing, just my resolve.

I can’t explain how hard it is not to give in to the temptations of the thing inside me, the ideas it puts in my head. Evil is like a stamp in my blood. The dark thing swimming through it is proof of that. Everyone tells me I won’t be like him, as if it’s a choice.

As if any of this is a choice.

I have good days, and I have bad days. This one fucking sucks. So my anger when I get home and find her in my laundry room is justified. If she wants to wash her clothes, she knows better than to do it when I’m here.

Ignore her, I tell myself, knowing I’m already too pissed to deal with the stray. I’m still trying to figure out how to control this, and mad isn’t it. I want her hurt, not dead.

Closing the bedroom door behind me, I stare at the picture I keep on my dresser. I need him. I need my dad. I need him to tell me how to keep it contained, because I don’t fucking want it out. I don’t fucking want it at all.

Pulling the knife from my pocket, I flick it open, admiring the sleek black blade. It’s curved and still so sharp. The handle is worn, making the engraving barely visible to the eye.

Love you, kiddo -Dad.

It had been a gift, the very last.

Putting it away in its home beneath the socks of my top dresser drawer, I let out a calming breath, ready to call it a night so the throbbing in my head might stop, when I hear a door slam. The dryer, no doubt. I know she’s doing laundry. Something in that sound, though, something in knowing it’s her, I’m angry all over again.

I find myself storming through the house in time to see Sumner making her way through the living room and to the back door.

Just let her leave. You’re too worked up right now.

“Vix,” my voice booms through the room.

She sighs, then turns. “What?”

“Get you and your shit out of my house.”

“I was already leaving, asshole.”

“And your clothes.”

Her focus narrows. “They’re drying. I’ll take them out when they’re done.”

Why is nothing easy with her? Why can’t she just listen? “Fine. Then they’re going on the lawn.” I don’t want any part of her in here. Not right now. This house, the air around me, it needs to be cleansed of Sumner.

“Dude, what the hell?” She runs after me, yanking against my arm.

Big mistake.

I have her against the wall, feeling all the rage I’ve ever held for her boiling to the surface. The girl doesn’t even try to fight me, just watches me like I’m a damn book she’s trying to read. Why the hell does she always look at me like that? Like she doesn’t see the monster she provokes? Her eyes search mine, as if there’s something there for her to find.

Maybe I should be more concerned as to why such a small thing would hardly flinch in the position I have her in, except I’m too focused on the way her lips part, the way her chest heaves steadily.

She wears my hand like a necklace. I can feel her pulse, the way it quickens while she looks at me. There’s something resembling curiosity in her eyes. It’s buried deep, surrounded by the fear she’s trying so hard to not let show.

That’s what I enjoy the most.

She tilts her head back, almost as though she’s surrendering to the idea of this, like there’s a piece of her that likes it.

I rub my thumb over the cool skin of her neck, my gaze dropping again to her mouth. Even now, Sumner doesn’t bow. The part of me that finds fury in that is met with another part that finds intrigue. How far is her stubbornness willing to take her?

My palm presses harder, not blocking the airway quite yet, but showing her just how close to real danger she is. The girl should be fucking running right now. Instead, she holds my stare, challenging me.

“What are you waiting for?” Sumner grits, taking in a small breath through her nose.

The sight of her, the idea of her, every piece of me wants her gone. Sumner is the worst kind of toxin, striking flames to the waking eruption beneath my core. I’m waiting for nothing more than to see my sweet addiction finally cower. Even then, I may never let go. The moment I do, I won’t feel her beneath my grip anymore. I won’t be looking into the rainbow pool that are her irises. One a striking blue, like the sun shining through a wave moments before it crashes back down, and the other, the speckled sand it lands on. They’re fascinating, her eyes. A perfect looking glass.