The Bad Boy's Artist

The Bad Boy's Artist

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing8m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Feb 20, 2016
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Fiction
Romance
I pushed my sketch book aside and looked up to see a very mad Arson looking at me. "Where the hell did you go?" He yelled not with holding any of his anger. I looked at him and pointed to my surroundings. "Right where you see me. It's not like I have a lot of places I can run off to." I stated. He looked around finally registering where he was and slowly started to calm down. He finally turned his attention back to be me studying my face with those emerald green eyes, and I caught myself holding a breath as his eyes locked with mine. "I'll say this once and I won't say it again, your mine....if you want to go somewhere you talk it over with me first. " He responded coolly not removing his eyes from mine. I took a deep breath thinking about what I was going to say, when really all I need was one word. "Why?" I questioned him looking back into those eyes. "Because your mine last sliver of hope and if anything happens to you I know there won't be a chance for me." He responded.
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All I wanted was him. His eyes were like starlight, everything about him made me so uncomfortable but that didn't change the fact that he was the one I wanted. I should have known better at the time. Maybe that feeling of danger should have made me run a different way but I didn't, I ran towards him even when he pushed me away. Now I'm here, looking at the window wondering how life would have been if I didn't let him. I should have seen the crazy. But like the dark makes shadows flee, I'll hold on to the little light he left me with. And in every room, I'll stare into the shadows in hopes of seeing him again.

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