Daredevil (TV)+1
What it Was What it
by An_Ode
It wasn’t love. The word was to clean for what they had. Crisp clear lines, white and unsullied. No ghosts haunted that label. Love was pure, not bathed in a river of red and grey matter. It wouldn’t echo in her head with the sound of broken bone and shrieks of agony. This, whatever this was, had a twisted spine and dripped with wickedness. Like the heaving monster he thought he was, it panted out harsh echoing breaths. Hunched shoulders rising and falling with a life of its own that felt suspiciously like death.