"I don't think I'm a psychopath anymore," James said quietly.
The air in the diner tasted of stale grease and low-quality detergent, a scent that James had grown to find oddly comforting. Across from him, Alyssa was meticulously dismantling a sugar packet, her eyes fixed on the white grains spilling onto the Formica tabletop. You have requested : The.End.Of.The.Fing.World....
Alyssa looked up, a small, jagged smile playing on her lips. She remembered the beach—the place she called the edge of the world . It was the only place they had ever felt safe, even if that safety was an illusion built on stolen cars and narrow escapes. "I don't think I'm a psychopath anymore," James said quietly