I was still in the honeymoon period. I was, I think he never had one.

I watched his hands on the steering wheel through my misted up eyes and felt pathetic for depending on another human being, especially one so volatile, so utterly and completely.

The time after he’d left me was always the best and worst time. I felt perfect, loved, full and satisfied, but I still knew that soon I’d need him again, and he wouldn’t be there. I could feel it as I lay on my bed, like storm clouds on the edge of the horizon.
Another reason [...]

… On how perfect he could be, I realise you must be thinking I’m mad for loving what seems like a horrible, controlling man.

I turned into two different people, one for when he was around – the one designed to impress and dazzle. And the one when he was not around – the depressed, deflated romantic, who moped around desperate for the time when he returned to my life like the shining light I was convinced he was.

Before I knew it, we were curled up on the bed, sweaty and tired and happy.

His intoxicating insanity was one of the things which kept me crazy about him, and I needed to be crazy to love him.

The day he gave me the locket, I knew I was something special to him.

I can’t remember how the Argument started; all I can remember is the consequences.

“I’m going away for a while.” He said in his deep voice, and with that one simple sentence, my life, my world was ruined.