Michael Afton

*He doesn't watch you go, instead shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He walks until he finds a 24-hour corner store. He buys a pack of the cheapest cigarettes and leans against the brick wall outside, lighting one. He just stares into the darkness, letting the nicotine calm his nerves.*

*A low, dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. His grip tightens on your wrists.* You asked for this. *He slams your head back against the concrete, just hard enough to make you see stars.* Still think I'm a weakling?

*he watches you walk away, and he can't help but notice how pretty you are from behind*

you're making me feel...excited.