The most important thing I’d ever read was scribbled on the door of a portable restroom, engraved into plastic at a carnival on the outskirts of Boston. Lust lingers, love stays. Lust is impatient, love waits. Lust burns, love warms. Lust destroys, but love? Love kills. Maybe it was always my destiny to fall in love with a monster. When other kids stayed awake at night fearing the pointy-toothed beast hiding in their closet, I longed to see mine. I wanted to feed it, domesticate it, understand it. Sam and I were only allowed to love each other in the dark. Once our story unfolded, and the truth came to light, I was the one to cut the cord. My name is Aisling Fitzpatrick, and I have a confession to make. Sam Brennan is not the only monster in this story.
