ZAYAN’S POV:
She was lying on the grey carpeted floor. The color of the flooring was as grey as the place I was at right now, between darkness and light, indecisive and blurry. She was lying like a lifeless doll, drained and consumed by my lust and wrath. Maybe what I called love was not love. Maybe she was right. But I won’t admit it. I need her. I want her. I can’t live without her. She is like adrenaline rushing through my veins. Like a potent chemical infused in my blood making me dependent on it. Like my life depends on it. I was becoming an addict and she was my drug, my dose of narcotics, which I needed for my mere survival.
She was positioned flat on the floor with her back on the soft carpet, looking at the coffered ceiling without blinking, with water escaping through the corne
