"Who...who are you?" my sweet angel asks innocently.
Fucking hell.
It takes everything in me not to storm the set and wrap a f*****g blanket around her. She'd probably just think I'm crazy, which isn't too far from the truth at the moment. She's even more beautiful than her pictures showed.
I didn't know perfection like her was real. I'd told myself that maybe the pictures had been altered or something. That if I saw her, some of this devouring need for her would lessen. That I'd see it was all an illusion. I thought maybe I'd built it up to be more than it really was.
I was wrong. She's even more beautiful. She's perfect. I hate that so many people milled around the set just watching her. It was eating at me from the inside out, and every time the f*****g photographer opened his mouth
