I'm going to kill him.

Will you help me? Help me make it a little bit of hell. The way you've been talking to me, I know you know what it feels like, to be empty, now. And I've wanted that back for so long.

I know exactly who broke it, the night under the stars, by the water, when Blue Eyes told me I wasn't happy. The night that things took a turn for the strangers in my life. And I've just been walking on since then, moving forward the way forward motions moves.

Sideways, always.

So, here's an invitation, doll.

Come with me; help me kill a little reminder of past. You know the way I feel about memories--or you should by now, if I had remembered to tell you. (Which I know I haven't. Maybe I'll recall it tonight. Maybe I'll remember that I wanted to forget. We'll see.)

You can hold him down, let's say.

You have the willpower, I think. But not enough anger inside to do what I want to do.

I'd never seen him cry, before, only heard the tears in his words. I want to see what it takes to unleash the flood.

He told me, doll, that once upon a time, he cried always. I never had a chance to see it; it was always me, standing out in the rain, with his arms pretending to shelter. I've had enough.

I want blood.

I want to hear him sob. Not beg--fuck any begging. I just want to see the changes inside, the way you can see when you look into their eyes for the first time. Like crimes are happening, all at once. I'm too tired to be thinking clearly, but I still have the urge in my fingers to make him beg for his life when he's on his knees.

I want to make him bleed. Just fingernails, first. Abrasive, callous. Anger tastes like sawdust, when your mouth has gone dry. Just a little more, poison, hollow inside. Choked.

He wouldn't cry, not with my hands around his neck, twisting. Not with knives against his skin. But, doll, I know what would make him give in.

Listen, now. Here's the plan. You find a way to be in two places at once. Hold him down and get with me, and make me bleed. He can't stand it when people hurt, which is why he's been so good at forgetting. But living in the moment is a curse--make it worse by coupling the stranger with an old friend. In the end, I'll have him dead inside, the way I died.

You can help me, doll.

We can bring the madness down, again.