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- Reads 471
- Votes 22
- Parts 8
I was an angry black women. Stress destroyed my happiness. My hunger was untamed. My Desires were unfulfilled. The Hole i had was never filled. My wishes were only imaginary. The passion i crave was never there. I had always dealt with satisfactory......until Demitre lit my fire...
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I glared at him; every cell in my body was on fire with hate. Everything that he represented - a manipulated, cold, emotionless world - I wanted to end. Yet I couldn't because he was the only one that could get me what I had wanted for the past two years of my life. He was the only one that was cold enough to get the job done. What did that say about me?
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