"You promised" He whispered.
"You're mad" I say with a shaky voice.
He cursed under his breath and looked down at his blood covered hands.
"We were supposed to be one, I thought I could trust you, but I was wrong. I knew I couldn't trust anyone in this world. Not even myself. I let myself fall for you."
'He's art, you don't have to understand him. He wasn't built to validate your opinion. Accept him for the beautiful ambiguity that he is.' - anon
Soul mates aren't the ones that make you happy, no. Instead, they're the ones who make you feel the burning edges, the scars and stars, old pangs, captivation and beauty, strains and shadows and worry and strain, sweetness and madness and dream like surrender, they hurl you into the abyss and taste like hope.
Set in the 1930s