What a mess. Horrible. But I shall clean later, my love awaits his rat poison. Chocolate chunk, who called them this? They are literally telling us that there are chunks of poison in the damn things. I hate them more than society. Fattening, circles of garbage and sugar. But he loves them, and he has been loosing weight. Must get him back to normal, before he waists away. The only thing I eat is meat, beautiful meat. Tasteful, bloody, warm meat. But my love doesn't like my meat, which is disappointing, but nevertheless I very much enjoy feeding him. He's so trusting, beautiful, pure, unlike the filth of the world. I don't want him to be contained, so I refuse for him to go outside, unless he stays it the backyard. Our house is surrounded by large ficus trees I had planted so the world is hidden for my little baby. So pure. I stand in the door way as he slowly walks threw the small garden in which I arranged for him. The flowers are the one thing that I am upset about, they don't even compare to his beauty. Pitiful, the world made the most beautiful creature, and left him to die. I hate it. I hate who ever did that to him. That is one problem I'm so looking forward to disposing of.
Hyperacusis, Nomatophobia, Neurotic. Call me what you want. I still have a heart somewhere. And it only beats for that boy. Twelve of his problems I disposed of for him, even bright one alive so he could rid of it. But he couldn't. He was too pure, too perfect. Which enraged me even more. This filth I dragged into our home, our palace, beat and abused my prince; and my boy gave him the chance to live, he would let the filth walk away from death and release him back to once he came? I couldn't stand it he voices the voices screamed and shouted. The noise shrieking and I wouldn't let him be hurt from the memories. He was too pure. He doesn't deserve to be tormented that way. I grave the filth my the neck and dragged him into another room. I would not let my love witness such horrible things. Once the trash has been cleared, I walk into the room in which my love was, I kiss his head to let him know it's all ok. " I heard his screams, and I heard your screams too, but I couldn't make out what you were saying. But I guess he's gone now." He whispered pulling me close. I rub his back, " just about,"
My beautiful baby, my beautiful Conner, but his name is broken and tarnished. To May memories, even when his name is spoken, he freezes and stares into nothingness. And after if you lay a hand on him he starts to cry, but not just a few tears, violently cries. And it's all because of the filth. He tarnished him. Broke him, ruined him and I wouldn't stand for it so this is why I call him my prize. He survived the torment, the pain, and after all of that he trust me. So I made him a garden to show there is still beauty in this horrid world.
