Perfect tanned Italian skin glowed faintly beneath the dim light fixture in the conner of my tiny room. My eyes racked over his motionless frame. His stomach did not rise, nor did it fall. His features relaxed and peaceful just as if he would someday wake up. My face twitched into a smile, looking down on what was now mine, forever. Shakily, I ran a finger over his shut eyelids, his skin frigid, yet still holding a sudden warmth. He was mine forever now.
I attempted to forget how he became my possession. If he just said [i]yes[/i], he'd be able to feel the excitement I felt. It's not my fault, really. As a human being I long for possession, and I lust for the material I cannot have. But none of it mattered to me now. Frank Anthony Iero was all mine. Just mine. Not for anyone else to rake their dirty irises over. Not for anyone else to touch. He belonged to me, and the very thought made my stomach do somersaults.
The days I had spent watching him began to bore me. I remember when I was