'' why don't you spread you legs for us and lay on the bed like our own personal feast?''
*book one of the nystrom series*
carmen nystrom, one hell of a menance to everyone in her way. and yet the diamond in her parents eyes.
one party with her si...
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i could carve my own heart out my chest and hope if i handed it to the loves of my life as i was sure they were.
they syrely had ruined me for anyone but them after all. and if they thought i would ever leave they were foolish as much as i hated my biological mother i could not lie and say i was not as crazy she was.
as fucked up.
and even worse after she dug her claws into so deep the scars still fresh on my skin.
if they thought i would ever let them love or fuck or cherish another girl, hah, i would lock them up, beutiful creations truely but if they thought after ruining me like this so i could never love another man, i could never feel pleasure if not by their hands.
if they thought i would let them leave.
oh they were in a suprise.
perhaps i would paralyse the girl too, i wouldnt kill her. maybe cut of her hands for touching what wasnt hers but mine. maybe i would tatoo my name onto my loves so that no one would ever question to whom they belonged.
because as primal and fucking pshycopathic it sounded they were mine.
i had fucked them, laid bare and on my kness. i had worhsipped and prayed fro them, too them. they were mine but then again any command that was to spill from their lips i would be first to lay down body, soul and mind to make ti happen.
whatever they wanted.
i would be a slave, a good pet, whatever pleased them. but if they thoguht even for a fraction of second i wouldnt haunt them down like a mad woman if they ever dared to leave me now, they were stupid.
i would die either searching for them or with them. no other option.
but they didnt need to know what kind of crazy i was. how fucked up my mind was and how i adored the mere thought of tatooing or permentaly marking them with my name made me smile to myself.
no one had to know i was after all no matter how much i hated the woman who birthed me, no matter how much i despised her, i was still her daughter.
and i was just as sick in the head as she was.
i just hoped the marinos wasnt the kind of crazy my father was. because i was sure of one thing before my father, my mother was like me.
crazy but not evil.
i wouldnt hurt my children, never, but i knew my father had been a diffrent kind of crazy than me. he didnt have a problem hurting his family, and he taught my mother not to have that problem either.
