Oleander

Caspen Devero was poison. A slow, beautiful poison that I gradually became addicted to.

It took me years to understand: he wasn't born that way. He was nurtured - by someone's caring hand and someone's hardened heart.

Back then he was just a beautiful bud - not yet unfolded in all his dazzling beauty, but already deadly. The kind that I should have uprooted before it bloomed.

I hated him. I loved him. And until him, I didn't know that these two feelings could coexist so closely and inseparably within me.

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