I didn't sit down for a time of reflection upon my life. I'm not that type of person. When I look back upon my misdeeds, never do I ponder whether I'm satisfied with the choices I have made. Nor do I ever consider if I'll become regretful for what I've done. The time for regret has ended, dead, and it stopped when this thing inside of me corrupted. Taking shape of horrid monster, foaming at the mouth and tearing bits away. I can still taste her blood. It's on my lips and fingertips. It's inside my head. I can feel it dripping, trickling down every thought of her. I cut my skull open so I could see my brain. Her face is etched there. Perhaps I could trace it with a razor blade and tear her off. That's what I thought, but I thought wrong! I feel the itch and know its scratching, I know it well. She is now forever with me.
I know this torment and I understand its isolation. Everything else has gone away, and I am left here. I am torment. I feast on the blood. Blood is the life. The life that was once hers, truly never was. She knows this now, and I see her despair as I close my eyes. Her soul, her love, and her outcry… it grasps me, and it's never away from me. You’re a dirty girl. Why? She asks me why. YOU FUCKING KNOW WHY! You know because we shared that moment and you know because in our eyes we had become one. You were one with me when I made you. This whole place is filthy now. Rancid. This blood will never wash away. Not that I'd ever try to cleanse your special spot. All the things you left are still here, in the very same places, but I fear they're starting to mold. The ruin has set in, but I don't want you to.