Just how dark and evil was he? How many people had he killed? What kind of illegal stuff did his family participate in? Was he involved in profiting from the s*x slave rings he’d threatened me with?
This morning when we were shot at and he turtled over me and it did something to me. Something I couldn’t quite name but it was like the night he rescued me in Mexico he’d sliced me open and then when he climbed onto me this morning to protect me, that open wound still there, he climbed right inside of it, of me. But because of the way he’d seesaw between dark and light I felt like I was always on eggshells. The light was nice; it almost verged on puppies and rainbows in my heart sometimes. The dark was scary. But then the dark could also be exciting. I’d even invited it, with volunteering to
