"My name is Emanuel. I’m 17 years old and I killed my mother. I had her sliced open, like a goat for the slaughter to get me pulled out. As she bled, the doctor pushed air into my lungs, and pressed his hands repeatedly onto my chest, with the same rhythmic, repetitive motion that he used to jerk himself off that very morning. It worked. He came and I came… back to life. The fact that my mother lost her life for this, for me, is probably just a side note. The cost of doing business. But it’s me who pays. It’s on my tab. And it accumulates interest with every passing year. My point is, there’s no place for me. Because I’m not supposed to be here. Maybe If I was some sort of Olympic athlete, or a genius scientist, but I’m not. I’m not any of those things. I’m just a girl. A murderer without a motive. So I serve my time, waiting for my sentence to be up.
Hey, cuties! So it's that time of the year again! YAY -I'm really bad with words so bear with me in this one- We might have spoken several times or maybe not at all, but I just want to thank every single one of you for being so awesome and making my dash so lovely! (And even if I'm not following you back, thank you so much, you're all so nice) Ily ♥