maybe he wasn't for me, but I was what he wanted. the ooze of blood silently pouring out from the lifeless body got me going. what got him going was the ooze of blood coming out of his heart when he took a glance of me.
I glared at him; every cell in my body was on fire with hate. Everything that he represented - a manipulated, cold, emotionless world - I wanted to end. Yet I couldn't because he was the only one that could get me what I had wanted for the past two years of my life. He was the only one that was cold enough to get the job done.
What did that say about me?