> "He didn't break me. He remodeled me."
You pour whiskey like we're old friends.
We're not.
We're a crime scene in progress.
I sip the glass anyway. Bitter. Like us.
"You still wear red lipstick," you say.
"Because you ruined every other color."
You chuckle. The sound is low, dangerous. The kind of sound that came right before your bullets.
---
"You came back just to kill me?"
"No. That's just a bonus."
You sit beside me. Too close.
The couch dips under your weight. My spine stiffens.
"You remember the night we met?"
"You mean the night you lied to me for the first time?"
"That one."
---
You laugh again. Nostalgia looks good on you.
But you don't get to keep it.
"You said I was your favorite weapon," I whisper.
"You still are."
"You trained me to hate you."
"I trained you to survive."
"By becoming you?"
---
You trace the scar on my collarbone.
The one you left when you lost control.
"You cried when I bled," I remind you.
"I still do."
"Liar."
---
You lean in, voice like smoke.
"I miss your rage."
"I miss my sanity."
We sit in silence.
Two wolves pretending not to bite.
But we will.
Soon.
---