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- KILLIAN -

It’s getting addicting. Being with her is getting addicting. And that kind of addiction is also very terrifying. The kind of terror I will die for. The kind of terror I yearn for even though I know it’ll be the death of , because what’s the point of being alive if I don’t enjoy the perks of living?

I let out a sigh.

Hazel makes think about a lot of things I was okay with before and question them now. Is she changing ? That, I don’t know.

I find myself wanting to protect her at the cost of others and I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not yet I enjoy doing it. I haven’t done much to keep her safe recently and just that bleeds my heart.

I hate that I wasn’t there for her and I hate that I made her bear all that burden alone. I hate that I can’t make Asami go away as well as the little compassion I feel towards her. I hate a lot of things of recent.

Owen being back. Asami being hurt. Hazel being a victim. Not knowing who S is. My n being murdered. And most of all, the murderer of my parents walking in broad daylight without a care in the world when I am aware of her identity. Every other thing life offered has been quite a chore which I’ve been handling well but at a cost of my ntal health.

At least she makes feel better. A smile paints my lips. She sohow clouds my head with nothing but happiness. Just happy thoughts.

And her boobs.

I chuckle under my breath. Her physical appearance is a plus, it’s not the main attraction. Never has been. Not anymore.

I get up from my dear in my office and waltz to my door. The mont I open it, a familiar cologne swoops past my nose. Thinking of the devil. It’s Hazel.

“Hey there beautiful.” I say, standing by the door. Hazel doesn’t respond. This makes my brows crease for a second. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I ask. My voice full with concern.

She didn’t say a word. I watch her closely. The mont her lips spread ajar to mutter sothing, a scoff leaves her mouth and she runs away.

I swallow. Okay, sothing is definitely going on and I’ll be sure to uncover it.

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