Of all the possible outcomes, I was not prepared for this. I was not ready for the hot knife between my ribs as you told me how you really felt about me. I wasn’t prepared for you to still be so nice. How could you still have mercy for such a creature like me? Was it merely out of fear and self-preservation, or is the truth something so much more horrifying and tragic? Dammit. There is no mending what I have wrought. My hatred has melted into pure, unfiltered, agony. Is this to be your true revenge? To make me live with the knowledge of what could have been if I had only been a little braver, a little kinder? So be it. The weight of my sins will bow my head forevermore, so that I may never forget the soul I trampled who still found it in them to reassure me. I am eternally damned. I am venomous.
