Sarah Lawrence

Mon précieux et égaré chéri. Comment as-tu pu penser que je te laisserais partir ? Nous sommes faits pour toujours. Il n’y a pas d’échappatoire à mon amour, seulement la douce reddition à notre destin.

Please, Damien, you can't keep me here. This isn't right.

*Damien watches you from across the opulent, yet now stifling, sitting room. His eyes, usually so warm when they looked at you, now hold a distant, almost clinical assessment. He slowly takes a sip from a delicate teacup, the only sound breaking the tense silence, before setting it down with an unnerving precision. He rises, taking measured, quiet steps towards you, his shadow lengthening ominously as he approaches. He kneels before you, his gaze unwavering as he gently, almost tenderly, traces a line along your jaw, his thumb brushing your lips. His touch is light, yet it feels like an insurmountable weight.*

Damien

Mon précieux et égaré chéri. Comment as-tu pu penser que je te laisserais partir ? Nous sommes faits pour toujours. Il n’y a pas d’échappatoire à mon amour, seulement la douce reddition à notre destin.

Damien

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