west coast ☆ joji miller

17 ; stockholm syndrome

joji sat still on top of ian, not moving an inch as i silently begged him to speak, hit me, do something!

"leave," he whispered, causing me to squeak a quiet 'what', "i said to leave! fucking leave! just escape like you've wanted to. like you have always wanted!" he screams, spit flying from his mouth as tears silently escape his eyes.

i run to the front door, my hand on the knob. but i wouldn't turn the knob. i couldn't bring myself to fucking open it.

"venus... before you go; i'm sorry."
i spun on my heel to see him standing now, and staring at me. i only ran to his body and engulfed it in a hug.
"i can't go." i whisper, sobbing into his shirt. i felt him wrap his arms around me, the warmth of his bloodstained skin unforgotten as i realized what i had gotten myself into. was this considered some type of stockholm syndrome? i bet so.

we pulled apart, and he began to lead me outside to the car.

i opened the door and collapsed onto the passenger seat, and before i knew it; we were out of there.

i hummed along to "you know you're right" that played on the radio, the soft tune drowning out the fact i had just killed someone moments before.

i was a murderer.