There was always a sort of quiet, passive-aggressive war between monsters and men, between men and magic, and between magic and malignancy. The hierarchy was set in stone, with sorcerers at the top of the food chain and monsters scraping along the bottom, and any intermingling of the two was unthinkable. Still, there were those who, whether it be by intention or circumstance, found themselves in between. There was Rodi, the spunky halfling whose strange gift made monsters stop in their tracks. There were her companions - the one-eyed, one-legged pirate captain Rosa, a necromancer with a flair for botany called Scarecrow, and Grendel, a beast rumored to devour people whole. There was August, the voice thief, and Lorne, the doll maker. There was Geraldine, the witch who would treat any malady or malevolent spell for a price, and there was Sunny, who came to her out of desperation. And finally, there was Benjy and there was Poppy - the former an enigmatic bookbinder, the latter a cursed creature changed into something not quite human and not quite insect. For better or for worse, each one of them found themselves drawn into the grey area of a black and white society, and none of them would ever be the same.
A happy childhood, a so-so adolescence.
Then adulthood arrived, and everything went to hell.
And by everything, I mean it.
Grown-up life is truly a wonderful, dazzling adventure! A job that drains your soul, stripping away any will to live while fueling a more or less justified homicidal instinct; depression knocking at the door with a lovely bouquet of red roses; and, last but not least, the remnants of a social life buried somewhere under my shoes. Not the ones I'm wearing now; those are slippers, big difference. I mean the other ones. The ones in the cabinet that I haven't touched in five years.
Love can be destructive. It catches you, ensnares you, devours you, and if you're unlucky enough, it leaves you standing in nothing but your underwear before reducing you to ashes.
I had made peace with my "and she lived single, forever unhappy but safe" fate. A house, one, four, eight, maybe twenty cats-to meet expectations-and a future as flat as a heart monitor that's given up the ghost. No joys, minimal suffering, because there's only so much a heart can take before it calls it quits. And honestly? Fuck it, I'd been through enough.
... But he changed everything. In the worst, most terrifying way possible.
From this abyss, I may never climb back out.