Please can you just listen to me? Take a moment to breathe and let me speak Jude. Please please please. I spent days searching for it, for a way to make you feel better, for an antidote of a sort. I thought I was enough but you quickly proved me wrong. What do I have to do to make you feel better!? Why do you have so much hate for me!? Please look at me. Can you see the tears welled up in my eyes? Can you hear the stammer in my voice? The sharp intake of air I've been having? Please place your hand on me, on my chest. Can you feel my heart beat? Can you feel how rapid it is? Can you feel me!?
I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry for it all! I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I'm sorry they took them. I'm sorry you lost your family,your childhood, I'm sorry! And no, I'm not trying to make this be about me, I just really need you close to me right now.
Is that a knife I see in your hand? Oh it's a dagger. Is it the dagger I gave to you some weeks back? I'm bleeding. I can feel the sharp edge of the weapon somewhere in me. I felt myself take gasp as you plunged it into me but what was more devasting, what I was more interested in wasn't the dagger or the fact I was bleeding out. It was you. Go on, please. Push it deeper so I can be an inch closer to you.
I'm tired Jude. I'm tired of it all. I remember barely being able to talk properly when it all happened. I remembered being shoved into a kind of room and not given proper food for days. I remember my first kill. How it left me shaking, how I felt my chest tighten. I remember the nightmares that left me sleepless for days, the panic attacks. I thought it'd get better. Oh,how wrong I was.
It was calming at first,being underwater. I thought it'd all be over soon and I'd get to pass on peacefully but the universe didn't fuck with me that way. I felt my head being pushed underwater, it was my punishment for not killing a person. For showing some sort of emotion. Empathy,they call it. For a while, I'd shut my eyes so tight whilst slitting their throats. I grew up from that. I decided to accept it all, accept my fate and do well with what little scraps was given to me by the universe. I soon learned I didn't like guns. They were quick,more innocent,less blood shed and tend to make me feel less guilty than I'm supposed to feel. So I chose close ranged weapons.
Sometimes, when it came to you. When my mind wanders and I see you in it. I thank whatever supernatural being above that I never went for the gun. I would've pulled the trigger immediately you stepped into that room. That's funny, cause it wasn't entirely true. I would've stumbled a bit, hesitated for a second or two and then shot you. I'm glad I didn't. I'm really glad I didn't.
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