Sindy
His words hung in the air between us like a hand I couldn’t pull away from.
“You are mine, Sindy. Not because I chose it. Not because you chose it. Because the bond made it so. And the more you fight it, the more it consumes me.”
He had said it like a verdict. Like a fact of the world. And my bones wanted to believe him because his voice held a kind of undeniable truth, rough and burning, that slid under my skin and set my blood to humming.
I wanted to hate him for saying it. I wanted to grit my teeth and spit back that he had no right to own the word mine as if ownership were something handed out by the moon. I wanted to shove him away, slam my fist into his chest, tell him he was wrong — he could not, would not, bury me beneath his need.
Instead I stood frozen under the moonl
