Six.v2

To my initial relief, Miriam didn’t follow my sudden departure with a phone call, a text, or anything else. Yet, as I walked aimlessly through the streets on Miriam’s side of town, I resented her for what began to feel like abandonment.

Miriam had truly understood a loss like Sophie—her response had been knowing and thoughtful. She was giving me the space to process my grief alone. But I couldn’t imagine Miriam wanting space, and I was seized with betrayal that she had allowed my self-isolation, despite my having chosen it.

And I felt even more dejected now, from my visit with Lily. She had known Sophie—she had always loved coming over after a shit day to have a beer with Sophie’s ever-delicious meals—and when Sophie’s body began failing her, Lily often showed up out-of-the-blue to check on her. I had considered Lily such a good friend to me, to Sophie even, and her lack of reaction to Sophie’s death was not only puzzling, but distressing.

My old friend seemed startled to see me before I had even spoken a word. She had looked rough, worse for wear since her departure from Henry’s, but what was appearance between us? Lily used to be so uninhibited. Could a year really change someone so much?

It was late morning now; the sun hung high in the sky as it fought to penetrate the smog, to reach me, and I missed it.

In my old life, I had been a handsome and charismatic trader, something that both drew in and destroyed my wife. The sun had kissed my back daily as I shifted between stalls at the outdoor markets, rotating stock and bartering with people who never wanted to pay what my goods were worth. I smirked at the memory, bemused that even now, so many years later, I was collecting debts from the same sort of people, people that always wanted something for nothing. There was something mercilessly human about that sort of arrogance. I almost found it endearing.

Through my existence, I’d experienced a wide variety of careers, but nothing had satisfied me more than being a trader. And yet, I would never indulge in it again. Part of my voluntary pittance was ridding my new life of the joys I had squandered before. I would never trade again. I would never marry again. I would never love again, if it had even been love at all. I didn’t deserve any of the things that I took for granted when I turned my poor wife’s universe upside down. I deprived myself of them to this very day—my eternal atonement to a woman long gone.

But oh, how I missed the sun. My natural tan had faded many centuries ago, and an urban life had left me much lighter, pale even. For the first few centuries of my damnation, I might camp or hike, or wander endlessly beneath the rays, but I always felt guilty about enjoying the warmth, as it always brought me back to my wife. Still, after all this time, I was sorry. But it didn’t matter now.

When I finally returned to my reality, I had little concept of how much time had passed, except for the growling of my stomach. Chinese with Miriam seemed so far away now, and I regretted not taking it to go, but the savory smell of grease wafted past me, and I realized all hope was not lost. I approached the distant burger joint with vigor, enthused for a meal in solitude, a meal I chose for myself. With everything going on lately, I had barely found time to breathe, much less eat. Yet, suddenly, I had all the time in the world.

As I joined the line, a wave of relief washed over me from nowhere, and I suddenly felt guilty. Without Sophie, there would be no more struggling between home and work. There would be no daily check-ins or calls from nurses interrupting me. I would no longer hear her screaming for me, even when I was at her side. I would no longer need to feign politeness or normalcy around the hordes of nurses that were always in and out. I was on my own again, tied to no one, and the relief was staggering. Guilt tugged at me for even considering the positives at a time like this, and yet there they were, like flashing neon lights at the end of a dark, difficult tunnel.

A minimum-wage employee interrupted my realization before I could become too lost in it. I conveyed my order, the usual from a dive like this, but when I went to retrieve my wallet from my pocket, it was nowhere to be found. My heart was immediately in my throat as I instinctively looked on the ground behind me, just in case, but it’s never that easy. I excused myself from the counter, too anxious to be disappointed, and scanned the ground as I began retracing my steps.

I closed my eyes as I tried to think of my last purchase. A carton of smokes a few days ago. I hadn’t bought food since. I hadn’t gone for drinks. I hadn’t—

Drinks. I closed my eyes, my stomach sinking. The bar. That barmaid. My drink.

I shoved my hands in my pockets as I made my way down the street, a new severity to my already urgent step. I begged my mind to find a more recent transaction, but it couldn’t. Had I paid at the bar? I couldn’t remember. But I couldn’t remember not paying either, and the thought of a woman I had ripped off having my ID and all the money I had in the world was wildly intimidating. If she knew who I was, if she knew what I was, if it got back to the archdemon, or worse… I stifled my response to the chill down my spine.

My phone was cold in my pocket against my palm, and as I walked, I thought about who I could call. Certainly not Lily, not that the thought would have crossed my mind before this morning anyway; or Henry, lest he either gut me for scamming someone or encourage me to do it more frequently. I wondered for the briefest moment what I might say to my Sophie, if there was a way to speak to her now, to seek her advice and support, like I had many times before, but I could think of nothing but her absence. That left the only other person I had in the world, and the thought of having to explain my indiscretion to Miriam suddenly felt too much of a cost. Whatever was going to unfold as a result of my hasty decision, I was in it alone. Perhaps it was always meant to be that way.


To my utter disdain, the bar was closed when I arrived. Without business hours posted in the window, I had no idea if it was just too early for opening or if the closure was unusual, perhaps due to the rapid aging of the barmaid, who could be the owner for all I knew. I put my face to the front glass, trying to peer through the grimy windows, but it was a lost cause. The sun was setting now, and I eyed my phone clock impatiently. When did normal bars open? I paced a bit, mostly in the alley as to not rouse suspicion for hanging out near the windows of a closed establishment. I smoked by the dumpster, as if repeating the ritual of my introduction the night before might summon the woman once more. But still, nothing.

As my cigarette burned to the filter and I had a moment to think, I briefly considered that my wallet may have fallen out of my pocket at Miriam’s. But I knew it hadn’t. Her floor had been tidy, save her clothes pile and mine, and I would have noticed it as I redressed. Even with my hasty exit, I couldn’t convince myself it was even a possibility.

I surveyed my surroundings before assessing the back door. It wasn’t open, but it certainly wasn’t secure, and with a little effort, I was inside. I stood near the door as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. As soon as they did, I began scanning the floor of the main room, then made my way to the bar. Nothing in front or behind. Then I eyed that door, the one that specified ‘Staff Only,’ and I begged it to be there.

This door, too, was annoyingly locked, but luckily, experience was on my side. After a bit of encouragement, it too opened and revealed the messy storeroom where the barmaid and I had had our encounter. I eyed the floor and, when I saw nothing, began rearranging the debris we had left. Please, please be here. But of course, it’s never that easy. I was both relieved and disappointed. At least the barmaid wouldn’t find it…assuming she hadn’t already.

Still, I chose to count my good fortunes as I closed and relocked both the staff door and the door to the outside of the bar; I had to, to avoid being swallowed up by my own misery. I turned to leave the alley just as the alarm on my phone went off, reminding me of the meeting at 8. I rolled my eyes as I dismissed the alarm. Sophie’s dead, Henry’s a cheat, I’m a thief, my wallet is missing, my world is crashing, but sure. Time for housekeeping.


When I approached the old city hall building, Miriam was leaned up against an exterior wall, near the back door, where others were filing in past her. An imp was with her, making her laugh, and I found myself snarling before I realized I cared. I quickly suppressed the annoyance as I approached them both.

“Collin,” Miriam smiled, excusing herself from the conversation she no longer seemed interested in. She reached out and took my hand, quietly passing me an envelope as she leaned up to kiss my cheek. “See you inside,” she excused once more, leaving me alone with the offering in the twilight. I was grateful she hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge over my hasty exit. The imp looked at me annoyedly.

“Thanks for nothing,” he spat in the high-pitched voice typical of his kind before he followed Miriam into the building.

Like you had a chance. I rolled my eyes. Miriam was tactful. I couldn’t imagine her wasting her time on someone she couldn’t harvest from, especially someone half her height with the sort of bothersome nature that could enrage even a saint. Though demons couldn’t be harvested from in the same way as a human, succubi were still the sirens of our world as much as the human, though politics typically kept them behaved on our side of the aisle. The sort of behavior that might have flown with an archdemon even a century ago could now get you banished to a purgatory worse than this. Miriam would never be so stupid. The imp was wasting both of their time.

My attention then turned to the envelope in my hand. It was thin and white; the type you would mail a letter in, as opposed to the large, manila envelopes of mark details Miriam often handed me at work.

In the envelope was a folded piece of unlined paper—a note. Wrapped inside the note was an aged polaroid of two women. I had to turn toward the streetlight to make it out, but Miriam was clearly one of them. She had a different hairstyle then, a high and voluminous long bob, flipped up at the ends, that matched that of her companion. Her friend was a tall, similarly-blonde bombshell, whose long arms were laced gingerly around Miriam’s shoulders from behind. An off-screen photographer had captured them in nearly-matching outfits – both wearing white, fitted pants and long-sleeved, plaid button-ups of only slightly different shades of purple, distinguishable despite the photo’s deterioration with age. On the white edge of the photo, written in ballpoint pen, was Peg & Mirry, Christmas 1963.

I then turned to the note, brimming with curiosity.

Collin, she began as she always did with me, and my chest tightened as I prepared for the oh-so-human insight into the succubus about whom I knew so little. This is Margaret, but I only ever called her Peggy. She was my best friend. I met her in the summer of 1958, and I loved her unconditionally. Cancer took her in ‘95, and the void is still with me every day. It doesn’t go away, but it does get easier to live with as time goes on. Rather than being sorry she’s gone, be grateful that for 70 years, Sophie made you feel human again.

I closed my eyes to draw in a breath. Oh, Miriam. She understood. Of course she did. I had known it in the apartment with that look. Suddenly, I felt less alone.

“Collin,” Miriam called softly, her voice sending shivers down my spine. I looked up to see her peeking out of the door of the building, and I realized I was outside alone, the slow trickle of an arriving crowd now entirely gone. “Are you coming?”

I returned the note and photograph to the envelope as I strode toward her. Careful not to bend the photo, I folded the envelope in half and stuffed it into my jacket pocket. As we entered the hall together, the meeting came to order.

I took my seat next to Miriam—Mirry? I smirked and noticed her eyes were on me, inquisitive as ever. I looked instead to the leader of our precinct’s demon community, a short, large-chested, and booming goblin, who had taken his place at the podium. Speaker Grimm’s beard had grown since our last meeting, and he was no longer sporting the straight-to-video Satan moustache that he had worn through the last several decades. Terry, our archdemon, was missing from his usual seat near the podium, and I wondered how he managed to get out of this bullshit.

Though usually relatively casual, the tone of tonight’s meeting was brooding. Miriam and I seemed to be the only two in the dark, with the others in attendance focused and quiet.

“Before we get started,” Grimm called to order, settling the chatter, “I want to address the rumors—lycanthropes have not waged war as a community.” I stole a glance at Miriam, who was trained confusedly on the goblin. War? “The attack was organized by an embittered faction of lycanthropes with the help of a handful of demons. I do not want retaliation against those unaffiliated. That said, we need to put a stop to this immediately.”

The details came out one by one. One of our own was dead—dead, dead—something lycanthropes alone couldn’t accomplish. Some of the half-bred bastards of wolves were rebelling against their forced marginalization and had a small assortment of traitorous demons on their side. We don’t have names, or species, of those involved. We don’t even know how many.

Then, as if the notice had been about the weather, the meeting whiplashed into business-as-usual. Chatter picked up, as it always did, and the individual sects and their respective representatives shared their various grievances and desires. The goblins were tired of being framed by the imps, since though their sizes were similar, their mischievous natures were not. The imps complained of ‘false reports’ to not-so-subtly brag about their unsavory deeds. The nightmares were upset that people in the city were sleeping less and called for a demon request of a sandman to our precinct. The usual. I hadn’t been to a meeting in 6 months and yet they were always the same.

Finally, it was our turn.

Miriam strode to the podium, a manila folder in her hands. Was there anything in it, or was it to make her look professional? Either way, she gripped the crowd the way she gripped any crowd, the way a beautiful, intelligent woman always does, but I couldn’t focus on what she said. I was too distracted by the news. Who had died? And why did everyone else already know?

But before I had time to trail long, Miriam was being interrupted.

“Your sect only has two members, but you have the most complaints of us all!” The imp from outside interrupted, and Miriam paused gracefully, though her eyes fell to me—out of frustration or desire for help, I wasn’t sure. Was this retaliation for her disinterest?

“With our assignments,” Miriam began diplomatically, careful not to identify what exactly we did, despite everyone already knowing. “It’s expected that there will be complaints against us. All we can do is be as honest in our business as we possibly can be and keep things by the book, which I am pleased to say we do without exception.” She smiled at me, and I began to sweat. Had that barmaid…?—no, surely not. She wasn’t one of us. I would have noticed during the transfer.

“There’s no way they have more reports than you lot,” an old nightmare retorted loudly from his position in the crowd.

“I wasn’t asking you, dream boy,” the imp snapped back from his new position, standing atop his seat to better see over the crowd.

“Just the other day,” the nightmare stood now too, pointing his finger at the imp. “I saw you get thrown out of a restaurant for harassing the humans. If anyone is driving up complaints, it’s you!”

The imp fell out of his chair in an uncontainable giggle, the piercing sort that only their kind could muster. I cringed where I sat, and I knew most of the others were doing the same. The fact that they could never keep quiet about their own misdeeds was what designated imps as the dredges of our society, the annoying little brother that would never grow up.

“At any rate,” Miriam cleared her throat and the attention returned to her. “We’re abiding by the laws we have set as a community. If you feel we are causing a disruption, please submit your complaints to me. Collin and I would be happy to review all complaints against our current policies to see if we have any gaps. In the meantime, we’ll continue to be discreet.” Again, her sweet smile fell on me, and I felt guilty. Would she still smile if she knew what I’d done?

Miriam returned to me with her unopened manila envelope—a prop after all—and a woman named Jinn took her place. I’d known of Jinn for years, though I’d never spoken to her directly. She seemed to pop up now and again, ever-captivating, typically with a complaint to share. The intense look she held tonight unsettled me. She was in her human form, though I knew she was a shapeshifter of some sort. I’d always wondered what exactly she was.

“I want to bring to attention the rampant bigotry toward the lycanthropes,” she began, and immediately, the crowd was animated with objections. My eyes remained on her, watching her pained face as she looked at everyone, looked at me, and yet looked so alone. Over the crowd, she continued, “what they’ve done is an act of desperation. Every month, they ask for representation, and every month, you deny them.”

“They aren’t demons!” an incensed goblin responded. “We are demons and they are not! We do not owe them representation!”

“They aren’t humans either!” Jinn shouted back, and the room began to quieten with the fact. Perhaps her eyes were getting to everyone. “They aren’t humans. They aren’t demons. They are marginalized and pushed to the shadows!” She was alive now, a flame behind her eyes as her body grew larger in her anger. “They are exploited for being poor and destitute! They are people and yet we care not when they’re relegated to underfunded housing units and housebound because they cannot afford the camouflage they require to exist among the humans.”

“If you care so much, she-wolf, you go help them!” a nightmare called, and again, the room lit up with raucous objections toward including the species in our community. It was the same anywhere, with humans or demons or countries: there was always an odd man out, and always plenty that wanted to keep him out. I leaned my head back in my chair, ready for the meeting to end.

Jinn’s growl returned my attention to where she stood at the podium, and she suddenly transformed into a large, feminine beast. “If you continue this apartheid, more demons will die. I promise you that.”

The crowd escalated once more, their roar louder than ever as she transformed into her canine shape and bolted from the crowded room. Was she involved with the lycanthrope resistance or simply bearing their warning? The room was alight with shouting and arguing until the speaker returned to the stage, his bellowing voice silencing everyone.

“Go home,” he insisted, and I sat up straighter, confused as to how the meeting could just end on such a note. “Burn a candle for our fallen archdemon. Pray he will be the last.”

Our fallen archdemon? I turned to Miriam, her mouth agape as she returned my gaze. In the hierarchy of Hell, archdemons were directly under Lucifer himself, serving as intermediaries between he and precinct leaders like the speaker before us. Despite all the lesser creatures, they had gone for someone as high up as an archdemon? Targeting one for assassination was beyond the realm of consideration, one step short of an all-out coup.

Miriam’s hand clasped my wrist then, and I realized I was staring past her. “And you were just there,” she whispered as the room cleared out around us, embittered chatter again rising between those who remained.

The lycanthrope neighborhood had been eerily quiet the morning I visited Lily, but I had chalked it up to being so early. My friend’s reaction had seemed so out of place at the time… Did she worry I had come as a demon, rather than a friend?

Miriam was watching me intently but staying silent. She was trying to read me but couldn’t with all the blanks in her little knowledge of me.

“We need to lay low,” I suddenly insisted, rising to my feet quickly enough to knock Miriam’s hand from my wrist. “You said we had the week off?”

She nodded, still eyeing me, still silent. I tried to read her too, where she still sat, her hands now folded in her lap. Her eyes were inquisitive but also concerned, and, eventually, she looked away. She seemed in no rush to leave, despite the dissipating crowd.

“Miriam?”

“This is just so weird,” she complained, her voice soft as she continued to look elsewhere.

I sat back down, and she looked grateful, despite not looking directly at me. “Archdemons serve a lot of precincts,” I offered. “A lot of districts, even. It doesn’t mean they’re focused here.”

Her eyes rose to mine, and I was sorry they did. She looked heartbroken. “You saw Jinn. It doesn’t mean they aren’t here either.”

“Lycanthropes aren’t demons,” I shrugged, lost as to which words I could offer for comfort. “What are we even supposed to do for them?”

“She’s right though.” Miriam was visibly upset, though maintaining her composure as best she could. “They’re always shoved off into the worst sections of town. They’re the only species to have to deal with camouflaging, and the imps make their lives harder by extorting them with it.”

“But what are we supposed to do?” I reiterated, uncertain what she even wanted to hear. It wasn’t our fight. It wasn’t about us. And yet here she was, making a fuss of something neither of us had any stake in or any control over.

“Are we just as bad?” she asked then, her voice quivering as tears began to escape her.

“What do you mean, ‘bad’?”

“They’re the only non-human species we harvest from.”

“They’re the only non-human species to have a human life force,” I reminded her, suddenly annoyed. My rendezvous with the barmaid made me defensive, and I certainly didn’t need Miriam entertaining the notion that we took any more from anyone than we had to.

“Collin—”

“Miriam!” I shouted then, and she recoiled, her expression pained. I was grateful we were alone now; the shout embarrassed even me, and Miriam went silent. “Miriam…”

“I get it,” she whispered with closed eyes. When I touched her wrist, she pulled it away from me. Finally, she stood, and I did too, if only to stall her.

“Miriam,” I grabbed her wrist then, and she finally looked at me, her eyes like knives as she willed me dead where I stood. “I just mean,” I started hushed, pulling her to me as if I were telling her a secret. “We do what we must. That’s all.”

Her eyes softened for a moment, but her posture remained harsh despite me. “I said, I get it.”

I tightened my grip on her wrist, if only to refocus her attention to my quiet words. “If you dwell on something we have to do to survive, you’ll never be happy.”

Miriam blinked, shifting her gaze from me to the floor, then, after a few moments, back to me. “Is that what’s wrong with you?”

I smirked, and though I wanted to be annoyed with her, I couldn’t help but admire her. “Perhaps.”

“I won’t then,” she promised with a sly smile. I appreciated the tone shift; sad Miriam was almost more than I could stand. But I saw in her eyes that just because the topic had changed, it didn’t mean her thoughts had. For now, though, that was enough.

“Come on.” She turned on her heel, walking through the row of chairs to get to the aisle. “I need a drink.”

For the moments before I followed her, I watched her. Every movement of her body was fluid and intentional. She was upset, very upset, just moments before, but she could still put on the act that everything was fine. Perhaps she had gone down this path long before me and I just couldn’t read it in her. She was so mysterious, this sensual secretary, and though I had never imagined us here, I followed her for that drink.

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Miriam might have objected as I exited, she might not have. 

Okay, so I had to start this review with a quote from the last chapter because I just realized that I stole this tactic from you:  the “maybe this, or maybe that” tactic the main uses to let the reader onto the fact that they are disoriented/displaced by what happened. Like one-thousand percent, I stole it. Straight up, I stole it. How I didn’t realize this until now is beyond me lol. I actually realized I was doing it quite a bit when editing Chapter Six, and now I know exactly where I got it! See, I told you. I steal EVERYTHING FROM YOU!

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Yet, as I walked aimlessly through the streets on Miriam’s side of town, I resented her for what began to feel like abandonment.

So interesting how his thoughts string themselves along in his own attempt to explain his “unfounded” emotions. Listen Col, I skimmed Five. You can’t fool me. Mir was being perfectly supportive. She was obviously trying to connect with you and show you that she understood your pain, and you just stormed out. You stormed out, but only after allowing yourself to briefly feel that connection/reprieve. It’s obvious that you want it, that you need it, but you don’t allow yourself to have it. This has to be your guilt. The guilt we keep harping on over here in Reviewland? Ah, yes. That guilt. God, Col. I love you, but you’re so damn frustrating.

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Miriam had truly understood a loss like Sophie—her response had been knowing and thoughtful

I can’t describe how irate he makes me when he rationalizes things so perfectly, so rationally, and then he turns around and stomps all over it. I do love this about him, but goddamn, what an enigma of a man he is. Yes, of course she had a thoughtful/knowing response for him. She is perfect, after all. She is Mir, and he keeps stomping on her beauty. God love him for that.

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She was giving me the space to process my grief alone. But I couldn’t imagine Miriam wanting space, and I was seized with betrayal that she had allowed my self-isolation, despite my having chosen it.

So interesting that he says he can’t imagine her wanting space? What does that mean exactly? Does he believe her that charismatic/social? Fell like I’m using a shit ton of backslashes this review, but what? Does he believe she ENJOYS the company of the men she steals from? Why does he say this? I want to understand why he says this? He must believe her to be the opposite of him in the most obvious ways. Like, she compliments his forced “isolation.” It’s so painfully obvious that he sees her, at this point, as a facade of what she really is. Like you and I were discussing, he literally does not give her the space to open up and become a “real” person to him. It’s like he can’t imagine her as anything more than what he imagines the other women in his life to be, facades. They all seem to represent something that coincides with himself. It’s as if he sees the women through the lens of himself.



Charlotte: Guilt. I’m bad

Sophie: Happiness, freedom, carefree-ness, but also, GUILT. I suck.

Miriam: Opposite of me. Happy. Sweet. Charismatic. Sexy. (not that he isn’t sexy). Somehow she doesn’t bare the burden of his guilt. He seems to lash out on her for his guiltiness, but doesn’t attribute it to her directly. Not yet. He seems to envy her, but also the fact that he can’t make her a martyr. It’s almost as if he sees his old self in her, and he envies that person. He sees the Col that wasn’t guilt-ridden and miserable. He sees what he wants to be. He sees what he wants. What he needs, but won’t have.

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She had known Sophie—she had always loved coming over after a shit day to have a beer with Sophie’s ever-delicious meals—and when Sophie’s body began failing her, Lily often showed up out-of-the-blue to check on her. 

Love this detail about old Lily and how she relates back to Sophie. I’m enjoying the reminders that both her and Char existed. But also, this makes me waeh because I want to be in those memories with them! Oh Col, you had it all with Sophie.

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Could a year really change someone so much?

Yes.

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the sun hung high in the sky as it fought to penetrate the smog, to reach me, and I missed it.

Love this drawback to him talking about the sun from the chapter where Soph died. Love how the sun can’t seem to reach him being a metaphor for how he never allows reprieve to reach him-happiness to reach him-or any euphoria for that matter. Funny how Mir lives on the smoggy side of town. LOL.

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bartering with people who never wanted to pay what my goods were worth. I smirked at the memory, bemused that even now, so many years later, I was collecting debts from the same sort of people, people that always wanted something for nothing. 

Gawl. I can’t tell you how much I adore this. It ties right into his past, his present, in the most ironic way. I love that even after all this time, he’s still mingling with the same livelihood that seemed to bring him so much anguish, or at least, that’s what he says despite speaking about it here in the opposite manner. But I suppose he isn’t speaking about Char in relation to this life either. So, there’s that. I enjoy these drawbacks to his past. I feel like there are more or that they are more detailed than before. Funny how people never change, how even still, people are trading this for that for as little as they can get by with. Funny how now it’s their life/soul instead of goods. It was destined to come to that, and just as much as this is a snapshot of Col’s life, it is a snapshot of humanity.

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 There was something mercilessly human about that sort of arrogance. I almost found it endearing.

<3 this is beautiful. Him finding it endearing speaks volumes about his character in this head-space he’s in now. I feel like he’d find that endearing because he finds it ironic. To do the job that he does, he’d have to be somewhat numb to empathy. He isn’t totally, but he is to a degree. Because he makes it seem like he is undeserving because of his burden of guilt, he seems to extend that to humanity as a whole: the arrogance of people to want something for nothing, kind of how he did from the women in his life. He took from them “mercilessly” and seemed to give nothing in return. Maybe that’s why he finds it “endearing?” Because it is a reflection of himself in some ways, and the fact that he runs around dealing these people what he might believe they deserve makes him feel like he’s somehow rectifying that “arrogance?” Hmm, so interesting. Never thought of it that way.

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Part of my voluntary pittance was ridding my new life of the joys I had squandered before. 

See, this lends credence to what I said before, I believe. Instead of applying it to others, he applies it to himself here. His punishment for that “arrogance” is to deny himself pleasures of just about every kind. What a way to think about life! I get it. I get how he justifies it, but it’s so fucking warped. God Col, you are WARPED! His need to be self-destructive astounds me because he thinks he is being the opposite it seems! He thinks he’s giving himself what he deserves. He thinks passing up joys in life will keep him grounded and cause him less pain. He is WRONG! Can’t he see how this hurts him and all the beautiful, perfect, amazing, PAITENT women that come into his life?!



*AN ACCURATE DEPITCITON OF ME DESTROYING THE METAPHORICAL HOUSE OF WARPEDNESS COL BUILT FOR HIMSELF

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 I deprived myself of them to this very day—my eternal atonement to a woman long gone.

Listen. She’s coming back for revenge, Col. Okay? It’s fine. You don’t have to punish yourself eternally, because she fully intends to come back and make you suffer for it. So, can we at least stop pitying ourselves over what we done to her? No? Okay. Fine.

This is going to make her comeback so much more impact. The fact that he can’t keep her “mention” out his goddamn mouth really will drive it home when she comes on. First time around, I was like, “Wait, who are you ? What do you want? Oh, Okay. You’re Col’s betrayed wife. So. I kinda’ feel sorry for you, not really.” This time, I’m going to be like, “Oh goddamn. There she is. There’s the woman you’ve been beating yourself up over for the last billion years. Here she is to make you reap what you sew.”

I do love the way “eternal” and “gone” clash here. Opposites, obviously. It’s just so crazy that he is punishing himself “eternally” for what he did to her when she is “gone.” Long gone, in fact. He should’ve forgiven himself for this long ago, but I suppose his line of work wouldn’t allow him space to forgive himself for anything, now would it?

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but I always felt guilty about enjoying the warmth, as it always brought me back to my wife. Still, after all this time, I was sorry.

Yes, we know Col. Everything reminds you of her and you can’t allow yourself happiness of no kind because you were a selfish bastard *but at least I’m not alone . . . WAS IT A DREAM? WAS IT A DREAM?*

I don’t know if I believe he’s sorry though? Do you? I mean, he punishes himself, sure? But is he sorry? Is he sorry, or does he simply loathe the fact that he these women always leave him alone by dying or reminding him of how shitty he can be, so he peaces out? I feel like he’s not sorry. I feel like he just doesn’t like to be reminded of the darkness inside himself. I think he becomes sorry over both Char and Sophie, but I don’t think this punishment he continues to deal himself is him being sorry. I think it’s his way of protecting himself from more pain. From more loss. He obviously feels betrayed by Sophie’s leaving him, as he makes obvious by projecting it onto Mir.

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I approached the distant burger joint with vigor, enthused for a meal in solitude, a meal I chose for myself.

Gawl. I hate that he says this. Like, I know there’s comfort in “comfort food,” and that’s different for everyone, comfort I mean. But sheesh. Mir extended a courtesy to you and you just dismiss it by saying “a meal I chose for myself.” Meh, a meal I chose for myself, meh, a meal of solitude, MEH. Gawl, Col. You are truly insufferable at times.

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I had barely found time to breathe, much less eat. Yet, suddenly, I had all the time in the world.

Wow, is he really going to allow himself this moment of reprieve from all of this? Too bad he’s going to remember he lost his fucking wallet.

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I was on my own again, tied to no one, and the relief was staggering. Guilt tugged at me for even considering the positives at a time like this, and yet there they were, like flashing neon lights at the end of a dark, difficult tunnel.

I love how the only flashing lights he can see are those that remind him to be miserable. Goddamn Col, did you not see the big flashing lights at Mir’s begging you to allow her to extend you some comfort? Did you not see the big flashing neon sign on the ceiling above her head while she was gorgeously stealing your glow that read: “Hey Idiot, I like you . . . a lot.”? Really Col, did you really not see it, or are you just fucking blind to anything that doesn’t cause you unending misery?

Don’t answer that. I know the answer. The relief is natural, and it’s something you should allow yourself to have after suffering such a devastating loss. But we can’t have that, now can we?

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A minimum-wage employee interrupted my realization before I could become too lost in it

Forever will remind me of the Quarantine McDonald’s scene. Forever. But I do love this transition from his mind to his reality. It’s perfect.

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My heart was immediately in my throat as I instinctively looked on the ground behind me, just in case, but it’s never that easy. 

This feels like a break in the fourth wall, and I love it <3

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Drinks. I closed my eyes, my stomach sinking. The bar. That barmaid. My drink.

Love how his brain doesn’t immediately go to having his pants off at Mir’s place just hours before, but goddamnit Col, my fucking stomach knotted and sank with you. You stupid frikin’ idiot. Gawl. How could you be so careless. I can’t help but be reminded of the license being left at the pimp’s house in GF’s favorite movie!

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I shoved my hands in my pockets as I made my way down the street, a new severity to my already urgent step

God, I love this. I love how the scene goes from him having this fleeting moment of relief to this sudden sense of nauseous urgency, and so fucking fluently too. Like, I feel like I want to barf with him despite knowing his future. But seriously, the way you pared the words “urgent” and “severity” here is just killing me. You could’ve said this so many other ways that wouldn’t have near the impact. You could’ve said “a new sense of urgency to my steps,” but no, you said it like this and instead of just urgency, we get to feel this overwhelming sense of dreadful, dense urgency because of the use of “severity.” Gawl. Love that.

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Had I paid at the bar? I couldn’t remember. But I couldn’t remember not paying either, and the thought of a woman I had ripped off having my ID and all the money I had in the world was wildly intimidating.

This is so realistic that he questions himself whether he did or did not pay. Just had to call out how real and believable that is for him to do. I enjoy that. <3

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if it got back to the archdemon, or worse… I stifled my response to the chill down my spine.

Or worse?! Or worse?! I hate that he doesn’t fucking specify here! I feel like he’s talking about like worse-worse. Like, the worse of them all, and that gives me the chillies too Col.

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Certainly not Lily, not that the thought would have crossed my mind before this morning anyway

Funny how he brings this up, and a good reminder of how uncalled for his visit to Lily was seeing as he hadn’t paid her one in so long. I mean, I get it, of course you want to tell someone in person that someone they loved/cared for passed away. But Col didn’t go to do that. He went to get some kind of camaraderie from her knowing Sophie and reprieve from the loss. He did it mostly for himself, and this thought just reminds us of that.

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or Henry, lest he either gut me for scamming someone or encourage me to do it more frequently.

Sad but true. I love how true Henry’s character is to himself. Like, he sucks, and I love him for it.

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Whatever was going to unfold as a result of my hasty decision, I was in it alone. Perhaps it was always meant to be that way.

Perhaps. But no. Humans are meant to be alone, Col. Of course, you would say this, but you’re wrong. You have all these women around you trying to fix and nurture you, and you’re all over here like, “Maybe I should be alone. I suck. No one should love me. I can’t give love. I deserve none.” And all these women are over here like, “I want to fix him. He needs help. He’s a good person underneath that pitiful persona.” Ugh. You frustrate me Col, and I love you for it. <3 I do adore how this scene ends with a reminder to us that his mistake with the wallet was, in his mind, a mistake made in wake of his attempt to right things with the teen and also the blooming relationship between him and Mir. It’s almost like he’s saying, “See, this is what happens when I allow myself goodness or joy. So, I should continue to punish myself and I wouldn’t have to worry about more pain being compounded on top of that I force myself to live under.”

EXHAUSTING!

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I had no idea if it was just too early for opening or if the closure was unusual, perhaps due to the rapid aging of the barmaid, who could be the owner for all I knew.

Love the realism of this. Absolutely, every on of us would be having this thought. I honestly question if it is too early? But I believe it could be open, but I’m not surprised it’s not. Poor Col, this just gives his mind more room to wander to the what if he was found out?!

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I smoked by the dumpster, as if repeating the ritual of my introduction the night before might summon the woman once more. But still, nothing.

I’m just dying over the imagery of this scene. I love how it mimics the scene from before he committed this atrocity. Love that he calls out the behavior as if it actually a ritual. It’s so human to try and retrace your steps by reliving them, but he also needed that time to ponder the situation. I just adore the setting though. I love the urgency, but him smoking as he thinks of what to do, waits for her to show back up (as if) but still in an urgent manner (I feel), as the day wanes and he becomes more and more antsy for the answers.

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As my cigarette burned to the filter and I had a moment to think, I briefly considered that my wallet may have fallen out of my pocket at Miriam’s. 

Again, restating that I adore the imagery of this entire smoking scene. <3 The way he describes his cigarette burning to the filter still sounds urgent, but I can so clearly see time slow down for him for but a moment to consider WHAT I SAID HE SHOULD’VE CONSIDERED IN THE BEGINNING! But alas, he doesn’t believe it there because she is too “tidy,” and I can agree with that. There really is no way he could’ve missed it in Mir’s floor or anywhere in her apartment. His attention to detail while he was there was hyper-vigilant. He absolutely would’ve noticed if it’d fallen out. Thanks for reminding me of this, Col. Thanks for reminding me that you were (are) slowly falling in love with Mir because you literally feasted on the details of her home to gain insight on her, which obviously means that you are intrigued and interested in her! Thanks for that reminder. I needed it.

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After a bit of encouragement, it too opened and revealed the messy storeroom where the barmaid and I had had our encounter

Ugh, I can’t help but revel in the image of Col destroying this barmaid in a closet. I love that. It’s HOTT! Also, it’s hotttt that he can just jimmy his way in these places. What skills. What a badboy.

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Please, please be here. But of course, it’s never that easy. I was both relieved and disappointed. At least the barmaid wouldn’t find it…assuming she hadn’t already.

Love that repetition of “it’s never that easy.” It truly isn’t, and this is something that rings true with every human being with a heartbeat LOL! I actually feel sorry for him that he finds relief that is instantly overwhelmed by disappointment. I mean, of course, because that means it’s not there, but it could also mean that she found it!

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Still, I chose to count my good fortunes. . . I had to, to avoid being swallowed up by my own misery.

This is hilarious as he literally NEVER chooses to do this! But I guess he hasn’t survived this long by being a complete and total MESS?! He did allow himself to enjoy nights out with Sophie, as well as Mir. He enjoyed the company of Lily even. I wonder if alcohol was involved with Lily, as it always seemed to be with Sophie and now Mir. I mean, that is the way of the miserable, isn’t it? But Lil has her own charm. Her brashness could make anyone smile. I love how all three of these women had something different to offer him. They each have their own way of drawing him in and allowing him relief. Lily is brash but endearing. Sophie was carefree and nurturing. Mir is intelligent and calculated, yet just the perfect blend of brash and nurturing when need be. Perhaps this is how Collin falls in love with her? Because she is the complete package?

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I rolled my eyes as I dismissed the alarm. Sophie’s dead, Henry’s a cheat, I’m a thief, my wallet is missing, my world is crashing, but sure. Time for housekeeping.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3



<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Jesus Christ. I love this. I love it so much. It’s the perfect summary/transition. It’s the most perfect one I’ve ever had the good fortune to lay eyes on. I adore it. I love it. I wish I’d wrote it. It’s perfect. It’s so Col, but it’s so human at the same time. Like, it’s not just Col being whiny. It truly is all happening and it’s all extremely overwhelming, especially when called to attention in such a way. It brings me back to sympathizing with him. It reminds me that yes, he is a whiner, but also, he does have some real shit stacked on his shoulders. It serves the purpose it was meant to, while also transitioning us out of this scene is such a poetic way THAT I LITERALLY CANNONT EVEN!

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An imp was with her, making her laugh, and I found myself snarling before I realized I cared

Back off, Bozo. You have to meet the requirement of at least 5’6 to be with a woman of Mir’s status, okay? Buzz off.

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“Collin,” Miriam smiled, excusing herself from the conversation she no longer seemed interested in.

He says this, but does he really get it? Does he really understand why she is (and I’m sure was) disinterested in this conversation. She is ate up with Col. He acknowledges her actions that show us, but he doesn’t see them. Men. Typical.

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leaving me alone with the offering in the twilight.

Again, this beautiful scene setting. Everything about this I love. I imagine that the dumpster smoke he had took place just on this cusp of twilight, and I love it. I love how it forces him to have to look at the photograph in the street light. It’s such a beautifully set scene. It gives us such reprieve as the reader from this hellish day he’s seemed to live through because in the twilight, he’s going to get to see that picture in the envelope. And that’s going to serve as both a relief to him and us. I just love this scene setting. I love it. You are so masterful. You don’t even know.

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I was grateful she hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge over my hasty exit. The imp looked at me annoyedly.

LOL! But of course she didn’t. You should be grateful. Thank god he is grateful, or else, I’d have to fucking kill him right now.

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“Thanks for nothing,” he spat in the high-pitched voice typical of his kind before he followed Miriam into the building.

Like you had a chance. I rolled my eyes. Miriam was tactful. I couldn’t imagine her wasting her time on someone she couldn’t harvest from, especially someone half her height with the sort of bothersome nature that could enrage even a saint.

Love how this segways into the explanation of harvesting. It’s comic relief, but also, it leads us so seamlessly into an unforced details about how demons can’t harvest from other demons in the same manner as humans. And also, thank you for agreeing with me Col that he doesn’t meet the height requirement.

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 I had to turn toward the streetlight to make it out, but Miriam was clearly one of them.

I mentioned how much I adored this earlier, but it never hurts to reiterate. I truly, madly, deeply love this setting and the emotions conjured by it. It puts me in the same frame of mind that snowy Quarantine and the dark room at the beginning of this story put me in. They are settings I could live in forever. I have such a need to live in these settings that feel ethereal when I’m writing my story, and it’s because you conjure them so masterfully in yours. You struck me so hard with Quarantine back in our teeny days. It stayed with me all this time, and you still do it to this day. I once joked about how every scene I wrote either had to be snowy, stormy or unbearably hot or cold. It couldn’t just be “normal.” That’s your fault, and I thank you for it every time I do it. It’s just a euphoric feeling when life hits that way, and everything is different. Time seems nonexistent and everything is just how it should be; catering to the appropriate emotions/feeling of whatever and whoever is in the moment.

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Collin, she began as she always did with me, and my chest tightened as I prepared for the oh-so-human insight into the succubus about whom I knew so little.

Of course she begins with his name! There’s something so intimate about how she always addresses him by name like this, and he mentions it. I love how he grows apprehensious at the thought of looking into her, but he doesn’t forbid himself from doing so, THANK GOD! He can’t help it. He’s curious because he likes her, whether or not he’s always trying to convince himself he doesn’t!

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Rather than being sorry she’s gone, be grateful that for 70 years, Sophie made you feel human again . . . Suddenly, I felt less alone.

I’m so glad she said this and that he ACTUALLY allowed it to settle on him! Like, he could’ve let it settle on him in the apartment, but he denied it! You would think he would close down ever more given this intimate knowledge about her, but he doesn’t. He actually allows it to calm his soul, per say. Thank god, because we needed the reprieve from his constant self-berating.

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“Collin,” Miriam called softly, her voice sending shivers down my spine. I looked up to see her peeking out of the door of the building, and I realized I was outside alone, the slow trickle of an arriving crowd now entirely gone. “Are you coming?”

And Miriam just fits so well into the ambience you’ve created for him to view this picture! She is so perfect. Every time I read her, she just comes across so perfect and so beautiful. It’s as if she always knows just when and how to present herself. But I suppose that she would given the nature of her existence.

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I took my seat next to Miriam—Mirry? I smirked and noticed her eyes were on me, inquisitive as ever. 

ADORE! Just fucking adore. He’s actually taken the chance to allow himself some lightheartedness, and it all came at the expense of Mir’s vulnerability. It’s almost as if he needs her to be come down to his level of “pity” so to speak, before he can allow her inside. Like, he isn’t open to the sexy, charismatic Mir. But he’s open to the vulnerable Mir. The one who shares her love of Peggy with him, a love that obvious hurt her but she chose to navigate in the opposite way Col did with his.

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Speaker Grimm’s beard had grown since our last meeting, and he was no longer sporting the straight-to-video Satan moustache that he had worn through the last several decades.

Hahahaha! I love this. “Straight-to-video” LOLOLOLOLOL

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Terry, our archdemon, was missing from his usual seat near the podium, and I wondered how he managed to get out of this bullshit.

LOL, because he was murdered, yo! But good point. No one would assume that at first. I’d also be butt-hurt that someone of his status managed to worm out of the meeting but little ol’ me had to go.

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Miriam and I seemed to be the only two in the dark, with the others in attendance focused and quiet.

At least you aren’t alone in your ignorance, Col.

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Then, as if the notice had been about the weather, the meeting whiplashed into business-as-usual.

I love this transition. Gawl. You nailed all the scene transitions in this chapter I SWEAR TO GAWL! This is so perfect. I can’t. I want it!

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The goblins were tired of being framed by the imps, since though their sizes were similar, their mischievous natures were not. The imps complained of ‘false reports’ to not-so-subtly brag about their unsavory deeds. The nightmares were upset that people in the city were sleeping less and called for a demon request of a sandman to our precinct. The usual. I hadn’t been to a meeting in 6 months and yet they were always the same.

You know what this reminds me of? Do you? It reminds me of Zazoo’s update for Mufasa while Simba is busy playing with a cricket. Gawl. Love it. It subtly details the world for us in this interesting way that briefly describes the people who inhabit this world without going into too much detail and without feeling like it’s just explaining shit to us for the sake of explaining. It’s actually funny and interesting! And poor Col, having to sit through these meetings. In all honesty, I’d find this the height of entertainment!

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Was there anything in it, or was it to make her look professional? Either way, she gripped the crowd the way she gripped any crowd, the way a beautiful, intelligent woman always does

Mir is just clever enough that there has to be nothing in it. First of all, she doesn’t need notes. She knows what she needs to say, without a doubt, forward and back, backward and forward. Second of all, yes, her beauty captivates a room. Her grace and poise. She is immaculate. She is obviously a woman of both intellect and sensuality, but adding a prop to the mix never hurt no one ;P

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Miriam paused gracefully, though her eyes fell to me—out of frustration or desire for help, I wasn’t sure. Was this retaliation for her disinterest?

Likely, but she looks to you, IMO, from frustration. You are her only confidant in the room. She doesn’t need your help. You need her help. So, obvious to me, she is looking to you because she is frustrated, and it grounds her. If she were to look at this imp, she’d be more likely to lash back. That’s my take. She also possibly looks to you to place blame for the imp’s retaliation. She knows it is because you walked up and she showed immediate interest in you LOL. She’s not blaming you, but she’s looking to the real target of the imp’s lash. I believe that to be true as well.

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She smiled at me, and I began to sweat. Had that barmaid…?—no, surely not. She wasn’t one of us. I would have noticed during the transfer.

Damn, I never thought of this. Col should be dripping all kinds of sweat up to this point, but he was too blindsided by the cute as picture and falling hard for Mir and her flipped out hair under the streetlamp in the glow of TWILIGHT! Gawl.

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“There’s no way they have more reports than you lot,” an old nightmare retorted loudly from his position in the crowd.

I literally cackled at this part! But he ain’t lying.
There’s something so refreshing about the atmosphere of this scene/meeting. It starts out all brooding, then that perfect transition from the “weather” to “business-as-usual” and these creatures arguing back and forth. It’s such a contrast from where this chapter begin, but we got her so seamlessly. It’s great. I get a chuckle, and I love it. Again, more insight to these creatures without being a bore-fest and just saying it. Such a creative way of detailing them to us.

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“I wasn’t asking you, dream boy,” the imp snapped back from his new position, standing atop his seat to better see over the crowd.

“Dream boy!” and the fact that he has to stand on the chair to see who he’s insulting! I’m DED.

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The fact that they could never keep quiet about their own misdeeds was what designated imps as the dredges of our society, the annoying little brother that would never grow up.

I just love how this is worded. Detailing someone or something as a “bother” is hilarious but just as perfect as it is hilarious!

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Again, her sweet smile fell on me, and I felt guilty. Would she still smile if she knew what I’d done?

No, but she would not long after that. Trust me, Col. She’ll forgive you. I know how this goes.

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Miriam returned to me with her unopened manila envelope—a prop after all—and a woman named Jinn took her place.

Of cours it was <3

AHHH! JINN! I’M FUCKING SCREAMING INTERANALLY! Goddamn. It’s Jinn. Every one shut the fuck up and stop bickering. Time to pay attention you “bothers.”

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She was in her human form, though I knew she was a shapeshifter of some sort. I’d always wondered what exactly she was.

As have I, Col. I love how minute this detail is, but how significant it becomes. Not GF dropping hints to us readers!

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watching her pained face as she looked at everyone, looked at me, and yet looked so alone.

Ugh, I never once felt sorry for Jinn in this story, but I suddenly did. Col noticing this is crazy, but not all the same. It’s curious that she looks to him before she looks “so alone.” Her acknowledging him caused him to notice this, perhaps? Otherwise, would he have? I don’t know. Can he truly be so self-centered that he only noticed her struggle because she looked directly at him, or was it just that painfully obvious? I’m unsure.

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Perhaps her eyes were getting to everyone. 

Now everyone is taking notice of her. Love this detail. Curious to me that Col noticed the desperation in her eyes before anyone else seemed to notice or care. Not that he cares, but that he took notice. Again, I believe this is because she looked directly to him, and as is true for most men, he won’t notice if she doesn’t serve his interests in some way.

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It was the same anywhere, with humans or demons or countries: there was always an odd man out, and always plenty that wanted to keep him out. I leaned my head back in my chair, ready for the meeting to end.

I love how this is a comment on the story, and there again, on humanity. I mean, this absolutely rings true to the human story. Col is sort of justified in being dismissive of it. I mean, how is lilttle ol’ Col going to change that? Why would he care? He should care. Everyone should care? But how could he be bothered to? I sympathize with him on that, and I don’t. But I’d likely be laying my head back against the chair too because these problems are for people like Mir. People who care. People who can fix anything.

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Was she involved with the lycanthrope resistance or simply bearing their warning?

Oh Col, I wish you knew.

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Targeting one for assassination was beyond the realm of consideration, one step short of an all-out coup.

You’ve done a really great job of detailing this world to us without handing us a key to how it works, as I’ve said at least twice before. My first two read through of this, I didn’t feel the gravity of this mention of a coup, but here, I understand it much better than before. That’s not a fault of yours, but mine. But your attention to how this entire scene introduces these characters is just on fucking point. I can’t drive that point further home. <3

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Did she worry I had come as a demon, rather than a friend?

Dang, Col. I never thought of that, but of course she fucking did! Damn, fucking Lil. She must’ve been like totally unsettled by the thought that you’d come as a demon to possibly deliver her punishment for being involved, not that we are supposed to know that right now!

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 She was trying to read me but couldn’t with all the blanks in her little knowledge of me.

But she is trying, because she wants to know you, and she wants to understand why you are the way ou are. Why you do and say the things you do! Can you imagine trying to understand him? Goddamn, this woman is a fucking saint. I’d have given up on him the first tantrum he threw. She’s a saint in the same regard that she feels the need to figure out this coup ordeal and he just can’t be bothered!

Quote :

rising to my feet quickly enough to knock Miriam’s hand from my wrist.

This is so subtle, but so impactful. Gawl. He sucks. I hate him for treating her this way. But he must for the story to come to such a great fruition!

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Her eyes rose to mine, and I was sorry they did. She looked heartbroken.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 As he should fucking be, though! Of course she fucking is, you Dickface. Of course she fucking is. Not to mention you don’t feel sorry that she’s brokenhearted, but that she reflected it to you and you don’t want to feel that from her! GAWL!

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They’re the only species to have to deal with camouflaging, and the imps make their lives harder by extorting them with it.”

That’s so fucking tragic. Is there really any reason to like those bothers to society? No. No there isn’t. And the audacity of that one to get angry because he THOUGHT he had a chance in Hell with Mir. Goddamn. Get it together you little motherfuckers. No one likes you. You suck.

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It wasn’t about us. And yet here she was, making a fuss of something neither of us had any stake in or any control over.

I mean true, but that’s what you love about her, isn’t it? Her virtue? She would make a fuss. Someone has to, and it was going to Mir if it were going to be anyone! Goddamn Col. Get your head in the fucking game. If you’re going to tag along with her, you gotta be more compliant and quit fighting her on every front.  . . . .Yeah right.

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“They’re the only non-human species to have a human life force,” I reminded her, suddenly annoyed. My rendezvous with the barmaid made me defensive, and I certainly didn’t need Miriam entertaining the notion that we took any more from anyone than we had to.

Yeah, because your ego is fragile and how dare she pull the ill-woven carpet from under your feet. How dare her make you face the truth. Here he goes, turning into a bully with her because he can’t face his own demons in the mirror, pun intended. She is so good and so pure, and here he is, trying to quell it because he can’t face truth. I hate him for that as much as I love him for it!

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I was grateful we were alone now; the shout embarrassed even me,

As it should. It embarrassed me too, Col.

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I grabbed her wrist then, and she finally looked at me, her eyes like knives as she willed me dead where I stood.

<3 <3 <3 <3 Now you know that is one hellacious look coming from a woman like Mir. She doesn’t just run around handing that look out to every Tom , Dick and Harry that walks the street. She gave you that fucking look because you fucking deserved it Col, and you know you did, so just do her a fucking favor and just die where you stand. Please and thank you.

Quote :

“If you dwell on something we have to do to survive, you’ll never be happy.”

It’s fucking insane as fuck to me right now that he just said this and he can’t doesn’t acknowledge the irony of thinking it OR saying it! Like, this is whole motherfucking existence! He literally dwells on everything horrible that he’s done and denies himself happiness and reprieve from it day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, second to fucking second! He is such a fucking hypocrite saying this. But I realize that he didn’t think about this before he said it, and that’s where the genius of this line comes out, but goddamn. I just want to smack you, Col. Smack you.

Quote :

Miriam blinked, shifting her gaze from me to the floor, then, after a few moments, back to me. “Is that what’s wrong with you?”

Goddamn it, GF. She is so perfect. The way she manages to make light of this NOT AT ALL SUBTLE self-profession just fucking stabs me in the fucking heart and kills me DED! Do you hear me? DED! She is so perfect. She truly loves him. She is aware of his limits. She is figuring him out, when not to push, when to, and when to pull back. The dance of this relationship is so beautiful. He is so destructive and here she is making waves in the fabric of his personality that are having lasting effects that he can’t even see but we see! <3 God I love how you write her. You know her so well, especially in regard to Col. You know how to make her “dance” with him, and it’s such a beautiful thing to read and I’m so lucky to get to sit here and experience it. I need it. I want it for my own!

Quote :

I smirked, and though I wanted to be annoyed with her, I couldn’t help but admire her. “Perhaps.”

Exactly. You can’t help but admire the way she took you from A to B. She guided you and you didn’t even know you’d relented to going  yet. You stupid, stubborn man. Thank you for succumbing to this and letting her give you and her both some reprieve from this situation and the argument you were brewing because you REFUSE TO LET HER BE A GOOD PERSON!

Quote :

sad Miriam was almost more than I could stand. But I saw in her eyes that just because the topic had changed, it didn’t mean her thoughts had. For now, though, that was enough.

And she does that for you, you butthole. You absolute, butthole. Can’t you see that this woman is catering to your needs and emotions. She is 1000 percent upset, but she realizes that it’s too much for you and that she needs to put it aside for now. She does that for you. Goddamn. She’s a saint. She’s a walking angel. And you just let her suppress her feelings for you. You suck. You need her. She’ll make you a better man. But you suck right now.

Quote :

For the moments before I followed her, I watched her. Every movement of her body was fluid and intentional. She was upset, very upset, just moments before, but she could still put on the act that everything was fine. Perhaps she had gone down this path long before me and I just couldn’t read it in her. She was so mysterious, this sensual secretary, and though I had never imagined us here, I followed her for that drink.

This is pure word art, and not the kind on MS Word when we were in 7th grade. This is poetry. It’s beautiful. It’s cumbersome in how honest it is. I ADORE it! <3

You could never have imagined  the two of you there, Col. You don’t want to imagine that because you don’t think you deserve her. And right now, you really don’t, but soon enough, you will earn her. She will let you, and it will be so fucking bittersweet for me.

Of course she’s upset, but she’s going to press her feelings down in lieu of yours. She’s going to give you what you need first, and she’s not going to ask for the same in return. You’re supposed to return it, but she’s going to let you by with not. Of course she’s gone down this path. Of course, Col. You don’t become the beautiful piece of art she is without having learned a thing or two from the cruel world that bred you. You have a lot to fucking learn from her, so fucking sit up, pay attention, and TAKE FUCKING NOTES!



Goddamn GF. What a fucking ride. Listen, you kilt me with the scene setting here. Kilt me. I know I said it, but you murdered me. I’m murdered. You are so masterful. This chapter just feels so . . . concrete. So perfect. I love everything about it. It feels like I’m actually reading a fucking legit af book right now. I mean, it always has, but this just felt so immaculate. I feel like the story is really coming into it’s own here. We get some to learn more about the world while also being gently introduced into the main conflict. Seamlessly. Seamlessly and gently. I love Mir so much. I love Col, and I love to hate him, but every chapter that goes by, I grow to understand and sympathize with him while also loathing him for remaining in his ways. Know what I mean?

I love you. You are such an amazing writer. You have no idea.

Love, BF

BF <3 GF
CT <3 SE