Dutch
9
2I was always drawn to the chaos she brought. The way she moved through life like she was untouchable, like she had a secret no one else could ever crack. But I saw it. The mess behind the facade. And I couldn’t look away.
Her name was a whisper in the dark, and every time I heard it, it pulled me deeper. Pretty little addict. That’s what they called her, and I couldn’t help but agree. She was a fix. A poison. A fire I knew would burn me if I got too close—but I always went back for more.
There was something in the way she smiled, something dangerous, something that made it impossible to resist. She wasn’t looking for love, but damn, she got me to believe I could save her from the wreckage she’d built around herself.
But in the end, it wasn’t her I needed saving from—it was myself.
And now, after all this time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the mess she left behind. About the way she made me feel like I was never enough, but I kept chasing her anyway. The thing is, when it comes to a pretty little addict like her, you never really quit. You just keep coming back.
Follow