Malachai Parker wasn't the only person to massacre his family. Along with him was Isabelle Martin, a witch who held his hand along the way, letting him siphon painlessly.
You could say she was as crazy as he. Unable to see the destruction he truly...
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"You know, this is very childish" Mal announced while dragging me to his side of the couch. He created a whole corner full of pillows and blankets, I couldn't refuse. Without a thought, I consciously nuzzled my face into his chest and continued to bare through Baywatch. I couldn't understand his fascination with it.
Actually, I was more envious than entertained when we watched it. The women wore form-fitting swimsuits, accentuating their every womanly curve. Yes, I was confident in my own skin. But, I was still a teenager, unable to get over the fact that I am me and no one else.
"What's the point of this?" I questioned before looking up at him.
I take in the small scars he has on his face, right between his eyebrows, his pointed nose that is somehow attractive along with the smiles under his grey eyes.
"The point is, it allows me to check out girls with no shame" He teased.
"Yet I'm right here" I whispered. That's when I found the courage to raise onto my knees and straddle him. Like instinct, his hands fixed themselves on my hips while I raked my hands through his hair.
"Yes you are" he said, breathing out a smile before capturing my lips in a kiss. He was sweet when he wanted to be. That was the scary thing about Malachai Parker. He could switch in a moment. Like it did in a years time.
"What day is it?" He asked, speaking between each peck he placed, trailing them down my neck.
"Day two hundred and forty eight... This was a good day, don't you think, Kai?" I giggled toward the camera sitting on the coffee table.
