she might not been a killer. been a murderer, but he was. several times he had taken lives. several times he had made sure to set examples. several times he just didn’t care. what could he say about them anyways? they were lesser than him. lesser than what he was and who he was. their lives meant nothing to him. why should they? it was funny, she never wanted to be one, and it was amusing. just by what he knew about her already there was something he could take for his own. maybe, just maybe, he could inch his way under her skin, but that would take time. not to mention a facsimile of trust that they shared – be it forced or otherwise. it would work. it had to work. “ not now, but one day…you might be.”
Hellfirebound 