“My stepmother shattered me. My ex ruined me. One look at Tax and I knew he would kill me.”

Love

Love. It’s a name given to people that you care about. And it was a name given to a little girl that no one cared about. The irony is not lost on me. I’ve always been a bit separate. First in my family and then in my relationships. Maybe you have to understand the emotion to feel it.

I’ve never understood how people will lie, cheat, steal, and murder for it. Why some people hand it over like pennies in their pockets. Or others hoard it like it’s their only valuable possession. I don’t do either. I’m convinced I don’t have any love to give. Someone is going to have to breathe life into my damaged soul before I can ever even consider loving them.

Tax

I’m a shit storm just waiting to happen. Actually, scratch that, I usually don’t wait for anything or anybody. The only things I give a fuck about are my boys–my band–and my little sister, Ally.

I’ve gone from underground kid fighter I was to whatever the hell I am now–guardian, bandmate, neighbor to a fucking woman that messes with my head. I want to know her secrets, her pains, and everything dark inside of her and whether or not her darkness matches my own.