Control is never owned, it is borrowed. But who was I borrowing my control from?
Siliana touched my cheeks, I touched her in return. Drew my face in closer, the bedsheets rosy, the ceiling bloody, the floor dark and invisible.
Butchered my knife right through her chest. But then I saw it wasn't Siliana, it was a blue woman, who loved me. My red was darker than hers. Desperately sought Siliana, but fell into the barn, comfy, with Rachel and her friends, brought Arman and his gang, had an orgy, some dude under control gave me money to have his friends come in. I counted my money, but it was of no use to me, I could borrow it, earn it or suffer for it, but it was never needed truly, it was just control.
