She's mine.
That's how it is.
That's how it should be.

Every bit of her, from the bottom to the top. It's mine. Mine, mine, mine. She doesn't have a choice.


2. Amaris: Entry 2

12:00 A.M

Dear Amaris,

You have just finished writing and closed the book with a sigh. Chills ran down my spine as you stood up and stretched.

You made your way to an unopened box, flipped the flaps open, and took out two towels. Then you went into the bathroom and closed the curtains. I sighed angrily and drove a knife into the floor in frustration. But, fortunately, I could still see your perfect silhouette strip, throw the clothes on the floor, and step into the shower. I waited until you came out, and again, watched your shadow. You wrapped a towel around your body, shook your hair out, and began to dry it with a hairdryer.

If I were there- if you were here, I'd dry it for you.

You walked out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom with the second towel on your head. You closed the curtains, and unfortunately, this time, they were made of a different material, so I couldn't watch you sleep. Again, I shouldn't worry, because when you come here, I will be able to watch you sleep every single night.

Sleep tight, Beautiful Amaris.


2:00 A.M.

Dear Amaris,

I have never felt such anger in my life, Amaris. I was carving you in my back wall again, with a knife that is still stained with blood. I was just drawing your silhouette, though, and running my fingers through all your edges. My hand always draws by itself, I have no control over it. This time, as soon as it was finished drawing my beautiful, delicious, perfect Amaris, it drew a male silhouette too. But it wasn't me! I stood back, hardly able to believe what I had just done. He was so close to you, Amaris. Much, much, much too close for my comfort. It wasn't acceptable. I drove the knife straight through his chest. It got stuck, so I grabbed another one and stabbed him again. I was able to pull it out this time, so I stabbed him over and over and over... Just for you. I am much better than him. Much, much, much, much better.

I then placed my hand against the wall, the hand that had performed this horrific crime, and swapped the knife into the other. Then I pelted it into my dorsal. I shrieked with the pain, with the relief. It felt so good; I just had to do it again. And I did. I stabbed each and every one of my fingers, and then my palm... Just for you. When you see my ruined hands, I'll be able to explain that I did this to protect you, and you will gasp, and say, "Oh, you're so brave!"

Yes, yes you will.

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