137 : off the table

I was back in bed five hours later, just waking up from my nap, one of the effects of the medication I'd taken this morning. And miraculously I'm fine.

Now it is noon, and the warm sun illuminates the beautiful city of Prague. Even though it was winter, the beauty was even more dazzling. And while I was enjoying the sight in front of me, something inside my heart was buzzing, giving out things that were so preposterous for my brain to accept. About all the things I wanted to do with Rhysand, about all the romantic fantasies that were always in my head, and I really cursed myself for it.

He's a killer.

He's a psychopath.

He's a mafia.

Much blood was in his hands, and will always follow his path.

And he was prepared for the consequences, he wasn't afraid to admit it, saying it was all he deserved. How can I entrust my life and my love to such a man? To the dirtiest, worst, most hideous and dark man? The red flag that walks over the world, and has everything in its hands? I shouldn't. My