She is me, but I am not her.

Latrice was like a drug. One taste and he was instantly hooked. 

Day and night, Quentin would find himself looking for her, craving more of her. The initial fear he carried in his heart gradually turned into something else. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but every time, he succumbed to his desires. 

When he first met Latrice, all he wanted was to have her. But later on, he despised her for looking in every direction but his. And then, he found out she was nothing but a monster, a cursed being that even the heavens fear. 

Yet, here he was, lying on the bed with the most feared demon of all. 

Staring at the high ceiling, Quentin casually stroked her bare back with his fingertips. He glanced down, only to see the top of her head on his chest. 

"Do you sleep, Filomena?" he asked out of plain curiosity.

She didn't answer, but she let him hear her soft chuckles.