STARTED JAN 2023--
MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised.
Priscilla Pearl Wolfe is a Pornstar.
Halen Elle used to be.
That is until the apathetically charming jackass with a back pocket full of guitar picks and skittles moves...
"And it's getting harder and harder to fake... Acting like everythings in its place." ♪ Living Room • Grouper
ANY SECOND NOW 68 DAYS AND 9 HOURS AGO
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Once upon a time, what I believed in took precedence over my comfort.
"Pearl, you can do this."
I used to run away at the sight of an imperfect man.
"You're gonna be okay."
I used to watch blissfully from my lonesome castle, with a martini in hand, while women I knew 'settled' for what I thought was a small, cheap kind of love.
"I'm not going anywhere."
I used to find the notion of 'soul mates' – someone so deeply ingrained in your heart, so unforgettable and so enchanting that you'd entrust them with your life – repulsive and silly. A child's delusion.
I thought I would never feel that. Never find it.
"I'm right here."
Then I met Halen.
I found out what happiness meant to me.
I realized that spending my life alone and wishing for the invisible, impossible man who would never bruise me or make a mistake, would hurt more than accepting their flaws and my own. It would hurt more than having a tragic, beautiful, temporary love.
And now, I stay.
More importantly... now, I'm stuck.
Stuck 'Priscilla.' Stuck Beauty. Stuck the Rabbit, prey to the Snake.
But he didn't swallow me whole like I thought he would. He bit me and left me to rot when – I would so much rather be eaten alive. I would rather a splitting of my flesh, blood and bones, teeth and nails, veins and heart; a pile of guts.
I would rather decay in his arms than all alone.
Pain be damned.
"Pearl, did you hear me?" Blue's icy whisper bounces off my ears and comes back two times; echoed and distorted. My belly growls and the hot skin of my palm against the scratchy fabric of my sofa aches like a rug burn as I rub the cushion beneath me. Tepid tears pool in a cold stain beneath my cheek and my eyes sting as I dig them into the wood grain of my bedroom door. I've carved my own path now, waiting for him.
