Member-only story
To My Ex-Girlfriend Who Never Knew When to Shut Up
I told myself I didn’t give a damn, but then I caught feelings.
I tell myself she led herself to her own doom. Bianca Fairchild wasn’t supposed to be here: she was an accident in the universe, and she lived under a cursed bloodline. With that kind of legacy, what could she ever hope to be? God had forsaken her, and the devil discarded her for younger models all the time.
I should have been her guardian angel — I would have loved to have been — but that role was already filled by some prissy primadonna who pranced around a glittery stage. (What a fucking show-off.) As an angel, I shouldn’t have craved a mortal’s presence anyway — but there was something about Bianca that made me more than lustful. I wished I could have shared dreams with her. I wished I could have sunk into her mind and become one with the universe she inhabited.
But she was so damn naive. I knew she knew I wasn’t the good guy, but she kept coming back again and again and again. Like some lovesick puppy. Maybe I should have known better than to indulge her with attention. But she was just so goddamn lovable. In another life, I would have eaten her alive and savored every single morsel I could scrape from her mind.
