To Grasp The Hilt

"You were weak. You have no idea how much I wished to push you and break you bone by precious bone, to hear that crunching melody of a boy who will never grow old. Hold you by your insignificant neck right up to the summer sun, so I get to watch as you choke and squirm, observing as your skin bubbles and blisters until you are a pile of ash. But I wouldn't stop there... no, I couldn't stop there. Your ashes will become the litter for my ailurophile neighbor."