Marked by fate
I wrap my arms around her, drawing her in, and fuck me, does it feel amazing to hold her.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I keep saying, my voice gentle. “I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you.”
This feels like sacrilege, but I can’t let go. I don’t want to. I want to fold her into my own body and never let her go, to lean down and press my lips all over her until all the bad memories are replaced with memories of me.