(ignore the sound of my laptop having an asthma attack. wouldve put music over it all, but then you wouldnt be able to hear cub choke)
Well this sounds awfully familiar.
I can taste your fear, you know. It’s leaking out of you. It’s dripping out onto my lips, fresh and bittersweet. I can hear it in your shuddering, broken breath. I understand it. I won’t reassure you, though. I’m not a liar. You are right to be afraid. I will finish here, and I will walk out that door, and it will never be this good again. Savor it. Ride it out. Go. Slow. Grip my hair and keep me here as long as you can stay conscious. It’s a bleak, bleak tomorrow.
LOVE ME. ADORE ME. WORSHIP ME.