Forever

It was odd, how life works, y'know? Why did things happen the way they did? Why did wind blow hair in your face and the sun burned your skin? Why did a poor, innocent girl get stuck with monster like me?

I wanted nothing but her happiness.

And it was always my fault when she was in pain.

Why was I such an ass? I had no excuse.

But back to life...what the fuck was life? It was an endless maze where I absolutely loved what I did, but secretly, deep down, I just wanted it to end, so that I could rest and reflect.

It was hard to reflect when you're laughing as you kill someone.

In all reality, I loved blood. I loved the color, the smell, the taste...It was like liquid rubies.

I remembered how Madame Tate loved rubies. I remembered how much I hated her whiny voice.

And I remembered how much I enjoyed cutting a nice, ruby necklace right into her skin. It looked much better than any expensive necklace her pushover husband could ever buy her, the long tendrils of maroon dripping down her chest and onto her white dress. I particularly liked watching them trickle onto her overtly exposed breasts...But that was just me, of course.

Not to mention, red was her color. Her ivory skin and emerald eyes always looked beautiful in any of her crimson gowns. Red is the color of sin, and she was definitely a sinner. She was a straight-up, unfaithful whore of a wife to a loving man.

Anyway, due to the fact that I'd wanted to the whole time I was with her, I took her to bed before I murdered her. And when I say before, I mean directly before. It was amazing; a completely euphoric experience. On top of the fact that it was great sex and an extremely fun kill, she was the kind of bitch that liked pain. In my opinion, that's the best kind. And her blood tasted delicious, too; I must have bit her twenty times.

When I pulled my knife out, she smiled for God's sake. She smiled.

She wouldn't have smiled if she knew it would be a little more than me satisfying her masochistic sexual pleasures.

Damn, that was such a delight.

Or what about that poor, Austrian sap? He was a riot. I literally drove the guy insane, though...I mean, really insane. I'm a killer, obviously, but not a mass murderer. I kill because I have to- even if I enjoy doing it- but that sick fuck killed 'cause he wanted to. He knew he was a loon, though. He'd always tell me how he wanted to die. I was just waiting to see if he'd pull the trigger himself so I could collect my years and get the hell outta there. But he didn't, so, y'know, I did my thing and shot him, staging it as if he'd committed suicide and I pushed him into a lake. I was exceptionally glad to end him, for obvious reasons. Recently, he'll come up in the history classes of my harbors. I cringe at his name; he was a generally entertaining character, but he was messed up. I often wonder if things would have turned out differently had I not chosen him.

But c'est la vie, right? And that's what this is all about anyway, yeah?

In retrospect, I'd had many killers as harbors, whether it was their own crazy minds or my controlling them, such as that last kid---Damn it, what was his name? Something with a b, I thought...but I could have been wrong.

Well, no matter, I supposed I was a good match for them; a cold-blooded killer like myself.

I didn't get attached to my harbors, either. I did what I did and moved on; no pain, no regret.

So how did that small girl sneak into my heart? How did she pick away my shell and get to my utterly soulless core? Because of her, it actually felt like I DID have a soul, whether it was a phantom sensation or not.

I loved her-- I truly did. She was this tiny sunshine in the darkness of my desolate existence; my little angel and my polar extreme. I was afraid of losing her...scaring her. I didn't want her to know what I'd done...What I was required to do. It physically pained me when I thought about my ultimate task. I couldn't fathom betraying my little princess like I would eventually have to.

Sometimes, I had to leave her so I can just go sit in some remote area and cry. I was not weak, and I didn't want her to think that, but I--I just..didn't want to kill her. When she told me about that star and the cloud, something in me snapped...Something that had been bending for much too long. I began to realize what I felt for her. It isn't pet love; no, it is real, raw and disgustingly true. Maybe not as a lover or anything but fuck, I loved her. I wished I could wrap her up and hold onto her and protect her and love her and be her Twitchy forever. I didn't want her to know what I was. I didn't want to know what I was.

But I couldn't lie to myself. I was what I was. A slayer. A murderer. An assassin for the random. An executioner for an unknown cause that up until now, I had supported. A reaper for the fated...

And to think, I used to enjoy that. I couldn't deny the fact that I'd always love death, as well as the blood, screaming and fright that went hand in hand with it, but I started to feel sick with myself because I loved it.

All for my little girl. My petite Marie.

My babydoll

So why the fuck did I do that to her? Why did I deliberately hurt her like that?

Was a single, mediocre lay worth her pain? No, it wasn't. I went out of line...

How the hell did I forget our goddamn anniversary?

I didn't...I didn't forget it, I ignored it.

I'd never dismiss something as special as that. Yeah, I didn't blow it completely, but I used to be a lot more responsible than I had become as of late, it seemed. But I guessed that was just part of my sentence. When I got framed and condemned by my father, I supposed I should have considered my old-self over, dead and gone.

Where was I before that? Oh, yeah...Well, normally I didn't give two shits about important dates of such a nature as a birthday or anniversary, but with my sweet Marilyn--everything mattered. Every moment mattered. She was the most precious thing in my life.

I just had not been sure that I'd be able to keep it together at her party when I knew what would happen in exactly two years to the day. Due to that lame vulnerability, I caused my tiny angel grief.

Damn it, I was so fucking old I didn't even know my own age anymore and I chickened out like some fucking baby?! Then I had the nerve to accuse her of being weak?!

I was so heartless, yet...not.

Because I loved her. I loved her. I loved her. I loved her. I couldn't say it enough. I didn't know what it meant and I didn't know what kind of love it was, but was love, I could say that for a fact. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her. Clearly, I was not a big fan of God, but he must have really felt sorry for me and blessed me with her, because I definitely did not deserve this much joy, all bundled up into one, beautiful, little girl. She had forgiven me almost instantly, and as inebriated as I was, I honestly couldn't find a reason why she would accept my apology. Shit, I wouldn't have forgiven me if I were her.

So, if you were listening, God...thank you. And cherish that, because I doubt you'll be hearing it again from me anytime soon. I know you already hate me and shit, but I appreciate your sympathy...a lot.

I'll try not to fuck this up anymore.