This Valentine’s Day, cozy up with your sweetheart and enjoy this hand-picked collection of the best Creepy Catalog has to offer in tales of romance gone wrong. Love, after all, is a dangerous thing…
I’d Give Anything Not To Know What Happened To The Missing Girl In My Town, But It’s My Darkest Secret
I am trying, but not hard enough. He grips me with thin fingers, pulling me closer, his skin hot and sticky against mine. Make me feel it, he says, and his desperation makes me weak because I don’t know how. I am sixteen and stupid and I don’t know how to do anything.
I began my search for the future Mrs. Farrelly by embracing a more primitive method of social interaction, or, as it’s more commonly called, “actually going out and meeting people.” Unfortunately, that shit got old in a hurry.
I shared a pretty intimate story about a past experience with an ex, which was when it got serious. He told me had something to get off of his chest. He opened up and told me a story that shocked me to my core.
Everybody said that our relationship was alluring and compelling but, most of all, we were addicted to each other like some drug.
I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I met him over Twitter.
A five year relationship is a hard thing to just walk away from, especially when you have to move into a little one bedroom by yourself. The place just felt really empty. So when I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize, I jumped at the opportunity to make a little conversation. It helped that I had imagined the stranger to be a girl.
16 days, 8 hours and 19 minutes ago she told me I didn’t know what love was as she walked out the door. She’s wrong. I know what love is.
We were happy. Weren’t we?
Maybe it sounds strange, becoming that attached to someone. I married young, I could always find someone else, right? Except that there was no one else.
If her mother was alive she would probably scream at the both of us. But she’s dead now, so we content ourselves with remembering the echoes of her displeasure.
“He’s coming,” she said with her back to me staring at that damned corner like she did every night since we had moved into that house.
I Created A Fake Gay Tinder Profile For My Ex-Boyfriend And It Set A Nightmare In Motion
“He’s an asshole,” Stevie said. “You’re better than him and everyone knows it. This is a blessing in disguise.”
I could “fix” the proverbial bad boy. My attraction to him – if you can call it that – had nothing to do with such a childish thing. No, I wanted to beat him. I wanted to be the one that got away.
The papers called Sharon and Ashley “numbers five and six respectively”. The love of my life and the little girl who was the living embodiment of my heart would be eternally remembered as the fifth and sixth victims of a killer that has never been seen or caught on camera.
You Should Never Have A Love Affair If You Live In A Small Town
When was the last time you locked your car?