Ironic, huh? To keep that part of me alive, I have to be close to that which kills it.

I am what everyone always thought. A killer.

Because I know what it feels like to be used, valued only for what you can do... not who you are, not who you want to be.

See you soon (but not soon enough).

All my life people have called me gifted. Extraordinary. Blessed. I had all these dreams to become something. Someone. No one ever said I couldn't. No one ever said Killer.

I respond, thoughts dropping away, like pebbles plopping one by one in water, sinking down, down into dark oblivion.

Yeah. A real date. Something official. You. Me. Tonight. We're long overdue.