Page 49 of Property of Necro
I knew the cozy life and being babysat every single day would wear me thin.
We are there, folks.
And I’m sick of this.
All of it.
Her.
Them.
The only people I can stand are Rot and Mama.
After three months, you’d think Necro would acknowledge I exist beyond the morning fuck and shower. Well, you’d be wrong.
Those little gifts… like the rose.
Poof. Gone.
I don’t know why they even keep me here.
It’s pointless.
They need to call Dark to pick me up.
Simple.
Except it’s not.
Because this bothers me.
They bother me.
How could you want someone here but treat them like they don’t matter? Is it a kink? Does it get them off? Is that the point?
Rot tells me all the time I’m different. I’m different. I’m different.
Yadda. Yadda. Yadda.
Hollow sentiments mean fuckall.
Not bothering with reading today, I sulk in Necro’s office. Of course, he doesn’t notice. Why would he? I don’t think this man has a single feeling in his body beyond the tip of his cock. Even that doesn’t seem to bring himenough pleasure to make a sound whenever he uses me as his personal hole.
Ugh.
I’m sorry.
I know I’m being a whiny bitch.
It happens sometimes.
Staring at the blank wall, contemplating life and what I should do, I must pass out because I’m woken up by someone shaking my shoulder.
Yawning and stretching my legs out, I blink a handful of times before I tip my head back and find Necro standing beside my chair.
“Is everything okay?” I ask through a yawn.
The exposed half of his face blank with indifference, Necro dips his chin and waves for me to follow him.
