Slave

Loving him makes me feel alive. By , I mean it literally— the happiness, sadness, sharp pain, embarrassment, disappointment, lust. Finally, after such a long time spending my life like a lone wolf with no heart, I can feel everything. Sometimes too much for my capability to the point I want to scream in anguish and destroy everything within my sight, but for the love of God, I like it. I’m addicted to it.

As much as it does damage rather than heal, I am beyond thrilled to get the chance to feel like a normal human being—because, where’s the fun in life if we have no adrenaline rushing beneath our skin?

My room is dim, but I can see his playful grin dancing along his small lips.

The sole reason of being alive; My kitty, bad kitty — the one I always praised even if all he does are being mean, brat, ungrateful little bitch. My salvation in this endless dessert. I worship him like he’s the religion I’ve praticed, the only faith I believed.

Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t lea —

“Do you need my help again, Wolfie?” That sweet voice seeping through my ear, calming my nerves. My room is dead silent, I can hear his light waddle across the room toward my bed. “You only need to say it, and I will help you.”

And who am I to say no?

“Yes. Please, please.”