Eighteen Point Five.

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The song for this chapter is Lady In The Wall - Danny Knutelsky.

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*TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter references violence & drugs. if these themes trigger you then please don't read on & stay safe.*

Zayn

She was everything that was good and pure about this fucked up world that we lived in.
The way that she was so corrupted by the way she was raised was what made her pure; it was a backwards and flawed logic but it made perfect sense to me.
The way that the venom laced itself around the words that she spoke was nightmarish in the most twisted yet heavenly way. Behind her chocolate brown irises the hidden code was waiting to be deciphered and yearning to be decoded by someone. She was craving to be touched and held by someone that would take the time to realise that she didn't want to be figured out or understood; that's what made her so complex yet simple to me. She wasn't expecting anybody to fix her or understand the way that she carried herself, she just simply wanted to be somebodies equal.
The way that she could make every single persons head turn when she entered a room was a powerful force of magic within itself. She knew that she had the effect of a succubus entity and it was so fucking exhilarating to see that she could use it to her full advantage without even trying. She could take you to the deepest and darkest depths of hell with a single flutter of her eyelashes and the touch of her sinful hands.
Yet you could guarantee you'd still be on your knees begging her to take you further.
Her touch felt like the hot blade of a knife being held against your flesh as you writhed in a sinful desire to feel more, despite the pain and the evident sick pleasure that was etched onto her features as she revelled in the feeling of absolute control.
She was like the feeling of sunburn on your skin combined with the relief of a cold compress being held directly on the effected area.
She had you questioning every single moral that you thought you knew as she corrupted your mind with her persuasive tone and mannerisms.
She was carved and created with equal parts Eve and equal parts Lilith.
She came from the garden of Eden and took a trip to Hell with her dark red horns poking through her halo.
If you looked closely enough you could see her eyes glisten red as her wings began to falter and fall.
She was a mixture of everything devilish and everything heavenly.
The combination of the two was what made her such a perfect reflection of who we all are as humans; fifty percent angel and fifty percent devil.
I would quite happily swallow every ounce of my pride and dignity to lay myself down completely bare and exposed to her if there was even a one percent chance of her entertaining such a futile man like me. The words that leaked like sickly sweet syrup from her cherry lips was like my own personal fix of heroin; I could sit and lick every last drop if it meant that her words would never stop ringing through my ears like the most heavenly symphonies being sung by the angels.
She was my own personal hellish heaven.
My limbo.
I was stuck in limbo.
Craving just one touch from my angelic demon.

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