I grew up expecting a fairytale life.
I found myself in the boy across the street. The one with the messy black hair, the crooked smile, and skinned-up knees. We were the best of friends, inseparable throughout the years. Our friendship turned to love and suddenly our whole lives were planned. Graduate high school, go off to college, get married, have children, and live happily ever after.
Only life isn’t a fairytale.
It’s messy, cruel, and it never passes on an opportunity to knock you down. When everything gets violently ripped away, he’s there to rescue me, and it’s only then that I realize my savior isn’t the kind that prances in on a white horse. He storms in on a black motorcycle, and he’s been in my life all along.
There’s something about him that’s always called to me—almost like I’ve belonged to him all along. The only time I feel alive is when he gives into his darkest desires and breathes life into my veins with his kiss. It’s wrong, dirty, forbidden. Nobody will understand, but I don’t care.
As it turns out, I do still believe in fairytales—they’re just a little more forbidden than before.
I found myself in the boy across the street. The one with the messy black hair, the crooked smile, and skinned-up knees. We were the best of friends, inseparable throughout the years. Our friendship turned to love and suddenly our whole lives were planned. Graduate high school, go off to college, get married, have children, and live happily ever after.
Only life isn’t a fairytale.
It’s messy, cruel, and it never passes on an opportunity to knock you down. When everything gets violently ripped away, he’s there to rescue me, and it’s only then that I realize my savior isn’t the kind that prances in on a white horse. He storms in on a black motorcycle, and he’s been in my life all along.
There’s something about him that’s always called to me—almost like I’ve belonged to him all along. The only time I feel alive is when he gives into his darkest desires and breathes life into my veins with his kiss. It’s wrong, dirty, forbidden. Nobody will understand, but I don’t care.
As it turns out, I do still believe in fairytales—they’re just a little more forbidden than before.
Used availability for K B Andrews's Wrapped in Hope