Make You Wish I Was Dead

If there is one thing you should know about me, it’s that I am prone to obsession.

That’s the only way I know how to love.

I have had several over the course of my relatively short life, but three in particular stood out and shaped me into the severely deranged young woman I now am.

The first obsession I remember having was death. It was such an abstract concept for my child brain, and it fascinated me. The second, was blood. You see, after I had my first taste of death, I was kind of disappointed. I expected more from it, I wanted the rush to last longer. I wanted it to be messier, dirtier, something that would mar my skin and stain my clothes.

So, blood was my second obsession. In my mind, if there was death, then there should be blood too. Otherwise it was boring.

The last one of my obsessions was nothing like the other two. It had dirty blond hair and hazel eyes, loved to stare at me silently and looked very much unapproachable.

Alexei Korolov. The Ice King of Olympe, Louisianna.

We came from two different sides of town, two very different families, but for some reason, it felt like we were one entity split into two different bodies.

Alexei wasn’t the knight in a shining armor who slayed my demons. He was the morally gray villain who captured them just so I could wreak my havoc and unleash my mayhem.

Because I was a girl prone to obsession and Alexei Korolov was the deadliest of them all.