I f*cking hate him.
But I can’t get enough either.
He sings like an angel and f*cks like a devil.
If I could, I’d run away and never look back because to tell you the truth, I think this man might be the death of me.
Naomi Knox is a bitch.
I can’t f*cking stand her.
But I can’t stop thinking about her either.
She looks like an angel and plays like a devil.
If I could, I’d f*ck her good and forget all about her, but to tell you the truth, I think this woman might be my last saving grace.
I don’t even f*cking know whether she’s dead or alive.
What I do know is that she’s the air I need to breathe.
She’s my redemption, an all consuming fire that burns in my blood.
And I’ll do anything to find her. Anything. Even if it means the end for me.
Turner Campbell is searching.
But he has no f*cking clue what it is he’s searching for.
There’s darkness all around and enough secrets to choke.
There are angels, and there are devils. It’s impossible to tell them apart.
Light needs to be shone on the truth, but there’s no one left to hold the torch. The line between life and death is blurred, and the players are all thoroughly entrenched in the game. The question is: am I still one of them?