Tonight, your locked doors are about as useful as mine were that night you came to me. In my heart I know the scent of the gasoline I’m painting your house with inspires the same fear in you as the chloroform did in me.
A restraining order is not justice.
I don’t have to live with you inside me anymore. That was like being dead.
When I strike the match, I come back to life. With a flick of my wrist, your hold on me goes ablaze and brings light to the darkness you forced on me.
Now I’m free.
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alt="The Last Leprechaun by Dakria"
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alt="Sitting on Aine's Cursed Stone by Crystal N. Ramos"
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