ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES.
These consequences sometimes materialise in the dead of night, wrapped in a dark nylon jacket with large letters that stick out, smelling of citrus; cedar and tuscan leather, adorned with a stubble and a scowl, and stern eyes that have no business being so pretty when they're staring down the barrel of the gun —pointed right at my face.
Dare I say this inconvenience, also appears to arrive in the form of my brother's childhood best friend, happens to move across the road from me and has made it his personal mission to get under my skin in the dirtiest and most forbidden ways imaginable.
He's even one of the reason's that I'm dropping bodies like I'm on a kamikaze mission and apparently isn't aware of his own transgressions.
But the worst thing is, there's just no escaping him, when he's become the ecstasy I crave.