He's coming for you.
Death is meant to come on a chariot of broken dreams or in the dark trenches of a storm, not in love letters and gifts.
He did not take my soul when I was meant to die. He did not want it all the other times that I've offered it to him on a silver platter. Yet, time and time again, he reminds me that I am his: His night monster, his dark love, his perfect other.
Death was the only thing keeping me alive. He watches me from his corner, taunts me with sweet messages, marks my body with his touch as I sleep.
He took the people that I love away from me. Still, no one believed me when I said that I saw the faceless man on the night of the accident.
No one can escape death.
Me? I'm chasing it.
About the Author
From an early age, romance author Avina St. Graves spent her days imagining fantasy worlds and dreamy fictional men, which spurred on from her introverted tendencies. In all her day dreaming, there seemed to be a reoccurring theme of morally grey female characters, love interests that belong in prison, and unnecessary trauma and bloodshed.
Much to everyone's misfortune, she now spends her days in a white collar job praying to every god known to man that she might be able to write full time and give the world more red flags to froth over.
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