[trash witch]

ever thought of calling when you've had a few?

1.	Dice	2.	Fireflies	3.	Blood	4.	Sea	5.	Glass
6.	Boil	7.	Machine	8.	Fantasy	9.	Dog	10.	Lust
11.	Titan	12.	Free	13	Electrify	14.	Regret	15.	Children
16.	City	17.	Waste	18.	Smile	19.	Shackles	20.	Lights
21.	Song	22.	Holiday	23	Villain	24.	Hero	25.	Fly
26.	Tease	27.	Touch	28.	Hide	29.	Night	30.	Naive
31.	Animal	32.	Hush	33.	Soon	34.	Still	35.	Friend
36.	Close	37.	Together	38.	Fight	39.	Mask	40.	Clean
41.	Stars	42.	Panic	43.	The End	44.	Text	45.	Return
46.	Magical girls	47.	Gundams	48.	Bishounen	49.	Tentacles	50.	Writer's Choice

[trash witch]

DICE

It was ironic, now that he thought of it, that dice had brought them together. With one toss, Fawn had become his little doll. With a lucky roll, he now had a rag doll. She cooked, she cleaned, so perfectly obedient and overly loyal. Maybe he did actually love her, like she loved him, but in his own fucked up way. 

It was as if he rolled dice at night to decide the question, how many bruises do I feel like leaving? Or how many drinks should I have before going home tonight. Some nights it would be two, others six, and depending on her luck maybe it would be more. He loved her, he said as he kisses her bruises the next morning, or he'd say nothing at all as he walked out the door. Walk out, leaving her to deal with whatever she'd done wrong, how mad had she made him? It was her job to figure out, he thought, not bothering to explain why he'd yelled. Or that why when she asked what she did, he had her hands around her throat. 

Oh, but he swore he loved her. Or maybe it wasn't ever her he loved, but the way she crawled back every night, a deer in the headlights with bruised cheeks. His beautiful little rag doll, she was always his favourite toy. His favourite toy, the one who always loved him.