Rhett Sullivan: mysterious boy painted in shades of red.
Nova Markov: eccentric girl dripping in sunshine.
He was the type mothers warned their little girls about - a cocky, rich asshole with a pretty smile, unapologetically insane and wild.
I was the type guys like him usually ignored - a free spirit who hid my crazy beneath an odd, good girl facade and the art hanging on my studio walls.
We were opposites in every way but one, and we collided like two runaway trains that never had a chance of stopping. What blossomed between us, our relationship, was maniacal. We got stuck in a cycle of madness.
Rhett Sullivan became a bittersweet poison I couldn't get enough of. In the end, that's what destroyed me. Because, in the end, our love was nothing but a lie.
