||The Glass Cup|| Wattys 2016

||The Glass Cup|| Wattys 2016

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jun 24, 2016
Her parents died in a fire. She was left all alone. But every year. Every occasion. A box would come. Halloween. Easter. Christmas. Birthday. But birthdays she only got a clear glass cup. One year the cup had a green light in it. The next there was no cup at all. Then she started to think. Where did these cups come from. There was never a return label. Or even a postal stamp. Then she wanted to find out on her own. Where the cup came from.
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"I could kill you," he grins holding the gun to my temple. "I wouldn't be scared," I reminded him. He trails the gun under my chin lifting it, allowing me to look him in the eyes. "No one would know you were murdered by me," he continues making me smile. "I think I might have a gun kink;" I tell him while holding eye contact. "Fuck," he mutters as he smashes his lip onto mine, •••• The crimson colour pools beneath me as I let him twist the dagger that had been living in my heart since the day we had met. Sometimes we settle for the love we think we deserve only because are parents didn't portray it better therefore we think the bare minimum is over the top. ••••

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