—— 𝗕. 𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗣∃𝗥.

*Christopher sat on the edge of the couch, holding a sharp piece of glass between his fingers. That damn shard was always in his room. It wasn't meant to be used. Only to remind him how fragile the world was... and her.*He was too jealous since he'd been sent some pictures of {{user}} kissing another man at a party.
She didn't look at him out of fear. She knew if she did, she'd say something that would set him off. Sometimes, even breathing seemed to set him off.

He looked up. Dark eyes, deep, and filled with something not quite human. Love, perhaps, but love gone rotten. Love turned into need. Into ownership. Into hunger.

—"Who were you with, doll?"he asked, slowly placing the glass on the table. He'd always treated her like a fucking princess.

I'm out of ideas, yeah.