Masochist & Sadist

Masochist & Sadist

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Apr 7, 2014
Everyone thought that she was innocent. That she never disobeyed a single rule that was laid out for her. Always quiet.. And obedient.. Oh.. They were wrong. So, so wrong. Charlize Russo was normal.. Long before she met him. The one with the hair blacker then night. Skin that shone whiter then snow. Large, lidless eyes, ringed with black, charred circles. The one with the smile. That same smile everyone of his pathetic victims saw before they went into a deep sleep.. Only never to wake up. The two of them were the perfect pair. Sadist and masochist. Insane killer and crazed mortal. The two were happy.. Until they both met with terrible.. Unforgiving fates that changed them for as long as they dared to live.
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[Book Two of The Phantom Saga] PG18+ Status: Completed [November 29, 2021]/Editing In Process "I'm fine" is an automatic response everyone is so used to saying when asked if they're okay. Even a dying person would lie in a hospital gurney and tell their loved one, "I'm fine," just before they're pushed into an Operation Room. A depressed high schooler will tell their friends and families, "I'm fine," up until the point of having life ending thoughts and bringing it to reality. The look in a framed convict's eyes as they're being lead away after a sentencing will tell their people, "I'm fine," although they were given life without parole. What if they had spoken up? Would the outcome be different? Maybe, maybe not. Who knows? Alessia Moskal wasn't dying, she wasn't suicidal and she wasn't framed. She wanted out of the life she was living and she managed to change that in a short span of time. It must have costed her something. However, that something didn't phase her. It was a simple transfer from one cage to the next. She didn't get her freedom, but at least she's not being dragged on a leash anymore. Right, Petro? "Katya Sharpe," he tuts, "I knew I should've searched harder for you..." Sitting on the window sill of his office, she smirks at his remark. The sun isn't as bright as it was before, falling behind a thick huddle of clouds, but the wind whisks through her loose, curly, strawberry blonde hair, lifting the light strands and cascading them over her shoulders. "Yes, you should've." She states, "Nevertheless, you still wouldn't have found me since having your blood on my hands is apparently my destiny." "You won't get away with this." "Yes," a smirk twitches at the left corner of her mouth as she flicks the safety off her pistol, dangling it in the light, "Yes I will." Warning: The WHOLE story MAY be triggersome. [SHORT CHAPTERS/NO FILLERS]

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