Never trust a bad boy. Oh, just let me roll my eyes here for a second. And I’m the idiot that people look at half enviously, half disbelievingly. . .
Two years later and dammit there’s another one. Lying in my hospital bed, unconscious. The last one chewed me up and spat me out, so this one is going nowhere at all. I’m not the same person I was last time around. Older. Wiser. Moving on.
You should never let them help you out, that’s where I think it all goes wrong, that’s where they slip under your defences. You think they’re okay, quite nice even, and with all those tattoos, long hair and a sexy body, maybe, just maybe . . . and then you lift the carpet and look underneath it and a swarm of drugs and excuses hits you right slap bang between the eyes . . .