“What are you thinking about?” You ask me, and your scandalous eyes meet mine against the reflection of the tv screen. She was the one that I told and I meant it. 'I don't love you,' I whisper to my thoughts, 'I could never love you.' It was her that I loved. I remember that I laughed then, slightly, because I knew that you couldn't come close to knowing, and you never will. Her color was a perfect shade of pink, full of passion and a purity you could never even touch, even then as you dug your spidery fingers into her wounds, desperate to feel what she had. No one was supposed to get hurt, remember? She never did anything to you. Things would never be the same because you loved what you were doing and secretly I did, too. A smile that meant that it was all over, and everything was different now. Even in the darkness I could see the twisted smile on your face. It wasn't hard to miss that night, the night that you stole her life. I should have seen it in your eyes the day I met you and that horrible lie you told me- what you were capable of. This is what you wanted, what you've always wanted. I should have been there to say something, anything, that would make you stop hurting her, but I've said it all before. Oh, how I wanted you to stop and yet no words would come. the ground was littered with broken twigs and autumn leaves so I knew any false step would have alarmed you. You didn't know that I was there, watching. I wanted to yell out, “Why? Why are you doing this? How could you destroy something so beautiful, so pure? Something meant to last forever!” But I couldn't. I bit back the urge to scream and you held the knife so tight your knuckles tensed white with fury. It was cold and dark, and the sky was bleeding red with crimson. Torrents of needles pierced my skin as I stared in tear streaked horror at the brutality of the scene. It was raining the night that you killed her. I remember the night, as clear as day through the scope. A monster, pale and dead just like you left her. I caress your neck and imagine what you really look like beneath your mask. So this is what it's come to- feigning intimacy? You are an impostor and this is not your skin. I run my finger down your naked back cool soft skin shivers as I touch your spine. I push the thought back and pull you closer. You lay your head on my chest and all the lies burn a hole through my heart. 'I don't much like needles.' I think to myself, so I ignore the words and close my eyes. I've heard you say this so many times, but you mean it this time, just like last time. “I love you.” You say in a tone that pierces the tongue before escaping your lips- twelve gauge.
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